Sharing our stories isn't only powerful—it's essential.
In Acts, Jesus sends his followers out into the world to bear witness to the ways in which they’ve seen God at work both in their lives and in the world around them. They aren’t asked to be persuasive or compelling. Instead, God simply asks them to go tell the stories of what they’ve seen and experienced. And as they do, incredible things begin to happen. One story leads to another and another—opening up a world of endless possibility.
So what’s your story? How have you seen the power of the resurrection at work in your life?
Steve and I have been bracing ourselves for the new reality that will soon be upon us… We will have another walking member in our family. That’s right—Imogen is days away from becoming a full-fledged walker. And this new milestone—has me thinking about life.
One of my fears of working full-time outside of the home was that I would miss Immy’s “firsts.” I would only hear about them afterwards and have to live through Steve’s day-to-day experiences. I would miss her first smile, her first word, her first crawl, her first steps. I feared that all these special moments would pass me by and that I would miss out on motherhood.
Little did I know these milestones rarely happen all at once… they are a progression. It took months before Imogen was actually crawling…though she was “so close” for so long. Her first words have slowly emerged out of garbled syllables overtime. It has been weeks that we have been saying “any day now and she’ll be walking…” It takes time. They don’t grow up in a second – they evolve and emerge. It is a process. And so is motherhood. It is an identity that takes shape through experience. I was a mother as soon as Immy was born – but I am continually in the process of becoming a mother. Motherhood takes a lifetime – it is slow going even in the fast-paced world of keeping up with a toddler. I am growing into what it means to be a mother each and every day.
I think too often we see growth and development as something instant. Perhaps this is the result of being a media-saturated culture where conversations on TV fade out at the end (no awkward goodbyes), conflict is resolved in under an hour, and consequences from poor decisions rarely impact a person for very long, if ever. Things happen quickly in the world of entertainment. If a plot line starts to drag we begin to ask “where is this going, and when are they going to pick up the pace?” If it takes too long to develop a character or resolve a storyline we are on to the next thing. This assumption of instant change has encroached in every area of our life. Rather than looking for the root cause of illness, we want a pill that will alleviate our symptoms. Rather than committing to diet and exercise we go under the knife. Rather than shop, cook, and clean we grab fast food. We are a nation of instant…and so we assume that things happen in the blink of an eye – even things with the soul.
I suppose what this latest milestone is teaching me is that life is unfolding. Change takes time. At least real and lasting change. Imogen gaining courage to start walking on her own will happen over a myriad of experiences. She has to learn to trust that her legs will support her – and how to get up after falling down. She is working her way into this new way of interacting with the world. And so it is with us when in major times of change and growth. We want a pill that will instantly make us someone new. Or we want to read a book and gain the one insight we need for everything in our lives to fall into place. Or we want someone else to give us the answer and reveal the right direction for life to make sense. But growth just doesn’t work this way.
I think growth is more like baby steps. It is a process that shapes and prepares you as you go along. Just like Imogen first had to learn to pull herself up, then to move along furniture, and now to stand unsupported…so we gain strength, confidence, and agility of soul as we go along. Transformation takes time. And I think there are lots of tumbles along the way. It takes a lifetime to grow into who God created us to be…we are complex beings after all.
And while Imogen is teaching me the importance of patience, persistance, and courage in the act of growing – she has also shown me another important aspect. Delight. The other day I let go of her hands while she was standing, and she stood all by herself in the middle of her room. She was so delighted by the experience that she started to bob up and down with excitement…which led to her falling down on her bottom. But we laughed and clapped and celebrated what she had just done. She was delightful – and she was delight-full.
Growth takes baby steps. It takes getting to know and trust our new legs. It requires gaining strength and familiarity with the new person who is emerging inside of us. This stuff just doesn’t happen overnight…there are markers along the way and milestones within milestones. But one must persevere in order to change. We must find a new sense of courage to be different – to live outside of our familiar patterns and ways of seeing the world. All this takes time. Yet in the midst of perseverance and patience we cannot forget to delight in who we are and the signs of who we are becoming. For with each baby step we become more of who we were created to be…and that my friends is worth celebrating!
4.4.12
Today we groggily woke up to rainy weather. This being my second year to Mississippi, I remembered how our third work day last year was especially difficult with the blazing heat of the sun. Many people had heat exhaustion and dehydration last year, so the cooler weather today was a blessing.
A common theme tonight during debrief was students and leaders commenting on how a lack of motivation due to fatigue made the day difficult. I could relate to this. Many times throughout the day, exhaustion would overwhelm me and blind me to the real purpose of what I’m doing here. When your mind is so consumed with fatigue, it’s difficult to stay focused on your task with a positive attitude and desire to serve others. We’re all prone to act selfishly and put our needs first when we’re tired, and often we feel a sense of entitlement such as, “I’m tired, so I deserve a break right now because I’ve been working hard.” It’s been humbling today to surrender these needs and continue working. We’re all tired, and yes, we’d all like a break, but we’re in this together as a team, and we need to accomplish this as a team. Again and again today I saw examples of my team helping each other, encouraging each other, and depending on each other. And again and again we proved to ourselves and to each other that we have the potential to do astounding things. For example, today, three teams pulled down a house with chains as a man with a bulldozer watched and realized that they did not need his bulldozer anymore.
We’ve all gotten especially close to our teams these past few days. We’ve gotten to know people we may not have known before this trip. Tomorrow’s our last work day, and we are ready to use this last opportunity to take new risks and leave satisfied and fulfilled, knowing that we gave it our all.
4.3.12
Tonight we gathered in the grass next to our hotel, with the salty wind blowing and sound of the waves softly crashing around us to debrief our past few days in Mississippi. With all of the students broken up into five different groups working nine hour days, we’ve hardly had time to hear what each other are up to. Each group shared their stories and experiences and the things that have resonated with them most so far on the trip. Many of the groups shared conversations they’ve had with the land owners whose houses they’re either restoring or demolishing, or on which they are doing a project of some sort.
One thought that’s been entering my head lately is how very appreciative the people we encounter in Mississippi are to have us here. It’s very gratifying to feel appreciated, but at the same time I am wondering how I can take the mindset of wanting to serve back to Michigan with me. Mississippi is something that Anthem students look forward to each year, but I wonder how we can be servants of God for the other 51 weeks of the year–not just in Mississippi. After all, how often do I go out of my way to serve someone in my daily life back home? Exhaustion is starting to hit, but we are all still excited for tomorrow.
4.2.12
I think it is somewhat difficult to realize the impact we’re making here, since it’s been seven years since Hurricane Katrina hit. Waveland, Mississippi is a town full of beautiful houses, roads, and people. There have been many new developments and restorations since the storm that affected so many lives. But if you look closely you can see that the disaster is still very much present and that the people here have not forgotten about it. The people we’re serving here all have different stories, and Hurricane Katrina was never meant to be a part of them.
I found it reassuring when Gary said, “We won’t forget what you’re doing for us here.” For seven years he has not had the opportunity to demolish his vacation home, all of which took us about 5 hours to do. To me, a week in Mississippi often doesn’t feel like enough time to accomplish much—after all, Gary’s house is only one of many that still have not been attended to—but today we served Gary, and became a part of his story. To Gary that is an accomplishment. And for that reason, I am thankful.
-Sarah, Senior
Anthem Mississippi Trip 2012
4.4.12
One thing that has really stuck out to me while we have been here was how open people are with their stories. We are strangers to these people but they are so thankful for the work that we are doing down here and they are just so open. One of the students had an encounter with a woman who was very thankful for the work we were doing down here. She wrote our group a letter it said; “Thank you for being here to meet an ongoing need. You are my role models on how to respond to a natural disaster. We are grateful for the continual prayerful support. Volunteers built a house for my son and me after Katrina. We sincerely appreciate all you’re doing for our community. We could not rebuild without your support. Thank you sincerely.” That letter says it all. These people are just so thankful for the work we are doing. That alone gives me the energy to keep going. All that is left in me I will give it all to my last day of work. This is my last year coming on this trip and I am having a hard time with it but at the same time it motivates me to work so hard on this last day. I am so thankful for this community.
4.3.12
I have noticed just how grateful the people are that we are working for. They thank us every chance they get. These people have gone through so much. Can you imagine waking up and all your belongings are gone? Everything was taken away from them in just one day. It has got to be so hard; they appreciate all the little things.
It inspires me to be thankful for what I have and to not be stuck on material things but to be grateful for my friends and family. Everyone is working incredible hard, it is exhausting and hot at times, but no one is complaining they are all being positive. We have been coming down here for 7 years. We still haven’t forgotten these people. We won’t forget these people!
4.2.12
My group got sent to a house that needed to be demolished. It was a vacation house to a family. The owner came out and talked to us. He thanked us repeatedly saying we were a God sent. It is so encouraging to know that you are giving a family a new start. He has some grandchildren that have many memories in that house. They decided to rebuild, what we got to be a part of today is helping them to eventually rebuild and continue to make memories. Everyone worked very hard we got everything done today. We read today in Psalm 121, it helped remind me while we are working that God is watching out for us this week. I am here to serve the people of Waveland, MS. I am here to help them get a fresh start. Thank you for helping us serve these people, by your prayers, love, and support.
Brie, Senior
Anthem Mississippi Trip 2012
Hi,
My name is Mohamed, my wife and I were invited to your church by Mrs. Nadyne Heinert back in September of last year. It was a positive experience for us and everyone in your congregation was very friendly and welcoming. You’re doing an honorable work by connecting communities together for the sake of peace and love. You’re a true beacon of hope in this dark ocean of intolerance. I really like your cool way of connecting with the youth and I really want to use the same approach to keep the local Muslim youth connected to our Kentwood mosque.
Keep up the good work and this is my experience!
I am writing in response to the healing service held on October 16, 2011. I know this seems rather untimely, but due to the nature of my healing, it took a while to reveal itself.
The healing service last year took place on my seventh wedding anniversary and just four days after my second miscarriage (the first being just four months before). I was obviously heartbroken and hurting. My husband and I came forward and a woman prayed for us and it meant so much to me that she seemed to understand how I was feeling and spoke hope and compassion and healing to me. It was very comforting to have my pain acknowledged and felt, and then to be reminded that we, through Jesus, have the power to do something about it.
In my last two pregnancies, a baby never developed. We went in for ultrasounds at nine weeks to see the perfectly developed home my body had created for a baby, and then an empty place where the baby was supposed to be.
I am now pregnant again. Two weeks ago my husband and I went in for an ultrasound (again at nine weeks) to see a perfectly developing baby with its little beating heart going strong. Always a happy sight, but made even happier this time around after being so disappointed before.
I take it as a reminder to me of God’s faithfulness that this new little one is due on October 16th.
March 24-26, 2006—I will never forget those dates as long as I live. It was my first Pursuit of Wholeness [POW] retreat, and the weekend that everything about me and my life began to shift.
I went because I wanted more. More of what? Well… I wasn’t sure… but somewhere deep within me I knew that there had to be more. I now know that what I ultimately longed for was wholeness, because without even knowing it—I was broken. Empty. Exhausted. Striving to be perfect for 35 years had only left me desperate, and numb. I now see that desperation as a gift, but at the time, I’ll be honest—it really sucked. I had no idea what I needed or wanted, much less how I felt. I was just going through motions and settling. This was not the full life Jesus had promised. Yet as a wife and mother of 2 adorable little boys, I knew I couldn’t settle anymore. If I didn’t love myself enough to be healthy simply for myself—I would do it for them.
So I packed my bags and I went—and those 3 days changed my life. I felt safe for the first time. I was seen, heard and known with no judgment or expectations—just given permission to just be exactly where I was at. I mattered. I was enough, more than enough even, right in the middle of my stuff. That broke the dam I’d built up, and I began to soften. I began to trust them, God, and the process. I was freed to just be for the first time in my life. Empathetic witnesses to parts of my story, these women entered in, validated my feelings, affirmed me, and blessed me. I have been a Jesus follower and have gone to church my whole life. I’d even been in full-time ministry prior to coming to Mars Hill and I had never experienced something so beautiful and profound in all my life.
Participating in a POW retreat was the beginning of a new way of living for me. I came alive. I began to attend “Connecting Meetings” once a month with POW leaders and other women who had also previously been on a retreat, and these meetings became a lifeline. We spoke the same language, and they inspired me to live courageously. After about a year and a half of staying connected and committed to this pursuit, I was asked to become a part of the leadership team. I was humbled and honored. Since then I have led several retreats. I now have the pleasure of entering into the stories and lives of other women who want more and have chosen not to settle. God now uses the ugliest and most painful parts of my story to minister to and instill hope into the hearts of broken, desperate women. Talk about redemption.
It’s now been 6 years since that weekend, and my personal journey toward wholeness continues as I continue to press into Jesus and my story in safe, authentic community. Even now, God persists in revealing new things to me while gently bringing more healing and peace to my heart and life.
Today, I am full of life—free and transformed. I have learned how to love myself well so that I can love others well. No more self-contempt. No more striving. I have grace for myself. I can simply breathe and be.
I felt the Spirit leading me to host a short circle in my home this Lent Season. If we dare enter the journey to death we WILL experiecne resurrection~ together. The first night we gathered~we read, we shared… then my sisters got honest. It is when we went from strangers to sisters filled with compassion and love for one another. Hearts crying out with tears running down their faces they share their need for the ONE who can raise them from the death. I am in awe of these women who like Ruth left there homes, familys and lives ~ journeyed to an unknown place because they KNEW deep within there had to be more… deserpate for HIM. The boldness they have to show up at a strangers home because they are on a quest for their own Kinsman Redeemer~ humbling and beasutiful. Last night we completed week 4 and I was in awe of the presence of LIGHT breaking through the darkness. You could feel the climax of the story is about to hit~ you could feel the presence of our Kinsman Redeemer about to enter our stories…O Glory. With 4 more weeks ahead of us grows this excitedment and wonder of how will our Redeemers entering in places in our lives that will forever be tranformed by HIS presence. If you feel the earth tremble on Wednesday nights its the LORD rolling the stone and raising us from the dead.
No one ever tells you that when you become a Christian, you don’t get exempt from life. And when life comes and smacks you in the face despite your new Christian status, it’s pretty hard to take.
On my 24th birthday, I had a vision. I was in a coffee shop crying hysterically. Across from me was a woman in her mid-30s. She was calm. Rooted. Her eyes filled with grace and peace. She was the woman I wanted to be.
When I woke up, I knew it wasn’t just a dream. The woman in her 30s was me. An older version of myself, calling me to live in such a way as to become her one day. But sometimes getting to the next chapter starts by turning the pages back to the beginning. So last fall, I signed up for Retelling.
Growing up in a destructive home, I was made to feel as if I didn’t have a voice. Silent. Unimportant. So you can imagine the devastation a recent assault brought me—my voice once again taken away. Silenced. Afraid.
Entering into Retelling then, a space where it wasn’t only safe to share my story, but where my story was considered sacred, was about as big of a departure as there could be. In that small, safe space, deeply intense, deeply personal moments were not only listened to, but responded to. Even people that I wasn’t so sure about at first were able to speak love into my life. Hearing me. Healing me.
As Anne Lamott says: “You own what happened to you…. Just put down on paper everything you can remember… and we will deal with libel later on”. So I cast aside fear and wrote. Throughout the laments of Retelling, came the most honest, raw words I’d ever written. In retelling my life to others, I began to see the thread winding through my journey. And in listening to the stories of others, a bigger arc that connects all of us was opened up to me.
Did I walk out 2 months later with all my problems wrapped up in a neat Jesus bow? No. It’s not that easy. But it was a catalyst. A new set of glasses. The journey through death that is necessary for true life. It’s the kind of community that reminds us all that – your story is my story, and we’re in this together. Because everyone has a story, and that should be honored and celebrated.
This is my story.
Some might say they long to be used by God, then never allowing themselves to recognize the moments when it’s occurring as if there is some prescribed method. Or at least I am guilty of this.
Often it is in and through the everyday events, the traditions and practices of our past that God is clearly and certainly at work but we fail to recognize it. Through the simple act of spreading ashes on the forehead of another, some thing happens.
Some thing happened on Ash Wednesday.
Remember… from ashes you came, from ashes you shall return. Powerful words to receive when on your knees having ashes spread on your forehead. Humbling as you place them on the foreheads of parents and children, male and female, young and old. Some eyes looking downward in reflection, others looking directly into yours as you speak softly words of our fragile state.
Tradition tells me that this simple act joins us with Christ, as act of repentance and acknowledgment. My experience has shown me that the depth of freedom to be seen and felt through these simple elements and utterance of words is vast. God is already meeting us where we are, working in us and through us because of our fragile state. Through days like Ash Wednesday, He reminds us that He is at work, using even ashes to bring all to Him.
From ashes you have come, and to ashes you will return.
Let’s be honest, those are big words. There may only be eleven words there, but they say a lot more than eleven words typically say.
Today I was honored to administer ashes to our community. Having done this for the past three or four years, I went into it knowing what to expect. And having done this the past three or four years, I should have known to expect something other than what I expected. So as the first woman approached the kneeling bench and I looked into her eyes, I was shocked to sense from her a total exhaustion. Suddenly I wasn’t sure that reminding her she was going to die would be helpful. I didn’t recall this experience from years past, but as people continued kneeling before me the look of exhaustion seemed to be a recurring theme. I know the season of Lent is a solemn and sober time, but I wasn’t convinced these people could take more of it. I felt this urgency, this responsibility, to say something hopeful or promising instead. But there was nothing more to say.
As I went back up on the stage to serve the communion elements, I recognized quite immediately that something had shifted. As I moved my focus from the elements to make eye contact with the first person before me, it was like I could see the life filling her body as I spoke. I told her the truth; that the bread and the cup – the body and blood of Christ – had been given for her. There is something about speaking these words and about receiving these words that brings just the hope we need to continue on in the cycle of life. We come from ashes, and we return to ashes. That’s happening to all of us, no exceptions. But the body and the blood of Christ is what makes it possible to live through the exhaustion in between. It’s what brings the hope to get through each day. I was now so grateful that I hadn’t tried to force something “peaceful” earlier on in the service, as I’ve been deeply impacted by watching the exhaustion fade and the hope fill people anew. And it’s then that I realized how badly I need the reminder of death in order to find true life.