The 2020 political season is already upon us and most of us are already over it. But unless we want to move out into the desert like the Essenes and pray for God to rain down fire to destroy us all, we have to stay engaged. We have to learn how to pledge allegiance to the Lamb while participating in the politics of this world.

In fact, I propose that during this 2020 election, we as Christians don't just learn how to "survive" or "make it through." I propose that we use this season as a God-given opportunity to become more like Jesus.

Last month, after the double-whammy of the impeachment trial and the State of the Union address, I realized that I needed to take a long, hard look at the ways that I was permitting my political climate to shape me. I spent the week checking my NPR app over and over, griping about the political developments with my co-workers, and scrolling, scrolling, scrolling through social media. It was life-draining. I felt irritable all the time. And the worst part was that I was mentally making those who disagreed with me my enemies.

I realized it was time to call it quits and find a different way forward. Not a left or a right way, but a completely different way. A third way.

Every fall, I create a rule of life to help guide my spiritual formation throughout the rest of the school year. But when I reviewed it, I realized that there was nothing in it that addressed politics. This inspired me to create a political rule of life.

If we want to retain our Christian witness this political season, we must re-arrange our lives for spiritual transformation. 

What is a "rule of life"?
A rule of life is an ancient Christian practice that examines and the arranges our patterns and habits so that we can become more like Christ. A "rule" sounds legalistic or stifling, but your rule of life should be anything but these things -- it should draw you into a lifestyle of God's freedom and abundance. A rule of life is the identification of specific practices that will draw you further into God's presence. Because each person is unique, each rule of life is tailored specifically to a disciple's personality and season of life. The sins that I am working on conquering may not have any bearing in your life. Conversely, the things that will develop your love for God and for his people may not affect me in the same way. For a more detailed explanation on how to craft a rule of life, check out this post.

Why should I create a rule of life?
Spiritual formation doesn't happen by accident. We are being formed every single day, both by our conscious decisions and by our unconscious decisions. If we aren't intentionally choosing to be formed into the image and likeness of Jesus Christ, we will unintentionally be formed into the image and likeness of Fox News or CNN. It's not a matter of whether we are being formed, but how we are being formed.

Why a political rule of life?
Every moment of every day is an opportunity for spiritual growth. St. Igantius said that these opportunities can guide us toward two possible outcomes: either we move toward "desolation" or we move toward "consolation." Sometimes our decisions steer us away from the life-giving presence of God, and we move toward desolation. When this occurs, we become more inward-focused, cut ourselves off from community, and forfeit the things of Christ for the things of this world. On the other hand, when we have practices in place that move us toward consolation, we become more aware of God's presence in our lives, generously give of ourselves and our resources in community, and prioritize God's kingdom over our own desires.
Participating (or choosing not to participate!) in politics is an opportunity for us to move toward consolation or desolation. Politics affect how we view people as God's image-bearers or even where we choose to place our trust. If we can be formed by our relationships, the media we consume, and the way we spend our time and money, then we can most definitely be formed by our volatile political climate.

What practices should I include?
Every person's rule of life will be different. I can only speak from my own experiences and the ways that the Spirit has convicted me. Here are a few practices I have committed to this season (once again, these are only examples):

• Limit checking NPR to only once/day.
  I chose NPR because it tends to report facts from a neutral perspective (but, as is the case with all news sources, not always). Here is a helpful chart that maps out how news sources tend to be biased.
• Partner with someone who votes differently than me in prayer, deep listening, and discernment.
  When I first mentioned this practice to those who vote the same way I do, they dismissed it as being too idealistic. "There's no way that someone on the opposite side will be willing to actually listen," they said. Maybe I am too idealistic, but I have to believe that there are people on the "other side" who are seeking God, too. And in my pursuit of this truth, I found a lovely woman who votes differently than me, and we had a wonderful conversation about why our consciences allow us to vote in different ways. We prayed for each other afterward. It was awesome. There must be a third way.
• Incorporate political thoughts and reactions into weekly examen to see whether they are consistent with the mind of Christ.
  Every Thursday I pray through the "prayer of examen" to assess how I've been adhering (or not adhering) to my rule of life. I also use it to identify sin in my life.
• Monitor my comments.
  Are they truthful? Unifying? Helpful? Gracious? Prophetic? Easier said than done! How hard it is to be truthful and gracious at the same time!
• Sabbath.
  On Fridays, my day off, I do not check the news, listen to the radio, or get on Facebook.

This year, may we be the kind of people who choose the third way. May we be the people who maintain our loyalty to God's kingdom while we participate, critique, and disengage from the kingdom of this world.

Some people get excited about Advent and Christmas, but Easter is my most favorite holiday of them all. But a few years ago, I noticed that by the time I arrived at Easter I felt completely unprepared. Christmas had lots of intentional prepwork, both spiritually (Advent Sundays) and commercially (decorating and shopping), but Easter felt like it came out of nowhere. Sitting in church on Easter Sunday morning, I felt as though something was... missing.

The feeling seemed incredibly ironic to me, because Easter is all about how the missing has been found: Jesus' missing body is found, our lost souls are found, our missing eternity with God is found. Despite all of this "finding," it seemed as though something was still missing.

That's when I realized that the "finding" doesn't mean very much unless we've had a period of the "missing."

The other day I lost my keys in the church where I work and didn't notice they were missing until I found them sitting atop the church's dryer. It was a surprise, but not really a great relief or joy. But imagine if I had lost them, realized they were lost, and spent time wandering around the church trying to find them. Their discovery would have been one of celebration and relief.

Lent is the time of the year when we realize that something is missing. 

Lent is a reminder that, without Christ, we would be wandering around trying to find all the missing pieces in our lives. It's a reminder that, without Christ, both our souls and our bodies would be lost to the bondage of sin and its devastating consequences. To make the most of the joy of Easter Sunday, we must spend time mourning what has been lost. This 40-day period from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday is a time for us to acknowledge the brevity of our lives and to recognize a need for God's grace and mercy.

Maybe it's because I have lots of sins to confess, maybe it's because I'm an Enneagram 1, or maybe it's because I'm just a masochist, but year after year Lent has become a significant time of spiritual growth for me. Lent is the time of the year when I slow down, do some deep listening, and especially enjoy my time in God's presence. Taking the time to pause, mourn, and "miss" prepares me for the joy and promise of Christ's resurrection.

 Here are a few resources I would recommend to prepare ourselves for the celebration of Easter Sunday, where everything that is lost is finally found:

The Repentance Project from An American Lent - I've done this project for the last two years and can't recommend it enough. This project puts repentance into the context of America's racism and invites us to repent of our deep-seated prejudices.

The Unvarnished Jesus: A Lenten Journey by Brian Zahnd - This is the Lent reader I will be using this year. If you haven't read anything by Zahnd, I highly recommend you at the very least follow him on Twitter or Facebook. His prophetic insight and bold assessment of our cultural moment has been both and a challenge and encouragement to me.

Lent for Everyone: Matthew - N.T. Wright has a Lent study for each year of the Lectionary, and this year's (Year A) is Matthew. I'll read anything this New Testament scholar writes.

Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter - I like this reader because it is a combination of historical (Augustine, Tillich, Kierkegaard), classic (C.S. Lewis, Dorothy Day, Bonhoeffer) and contemporary writers (Merton, L'Engle, Nouwen).

Wendell Berry and the Sabbath Poetry of Lent - I love Wendell Berry. I love Sabbath. I love Lent. (I love lamp!*). This devotional combines all three of these loves. It is meant to be read alongside Berry's collection of Sabbath poems.

Breathe Lent Reader - To date, this is my favorite thing I've ever written. I poured my heart and soul into writing this Lent reader a few years ago. This devotional connects themes from the Old Testament with the promises of Jesus, inviting us as a Church to live into the new life we have in his life, death, and resurrection.

Coloring Book for Lent + Eastertide - Sacred Ordinary Days is an incredible resource, and this year they have a coloring book available for the holy days of Lent and Eastertide.

Lent Playlist - This is a list of all of my favorite Lent-related songs that I use to center my thoughts and soothe my soul.

*If you got this movie reference, you deserve all the accolades. Let's be friends, ok?

In my neighborhood, there's a white kidnapper van that attracts all kinds of attention. Parked on the street, the van is covered with homemade stickers with just about every controversial word known to the year 2019 in bold, block letters: "NRA," "THE BEAST," "666," "TRUMP 2020," "GOP," "DEMOCRATS LIE" ... Every time I run or bike by it I look for new stickers I hadn't noticed before. It's quite the sight to behold. I could sell tickets.

The last time I jogged by it, however, I almost missed it. To my great surprise, all of the stickers had been taken down from the van, except for one: "JESUS SAVES".

How did this van go from political evangelism to Jesus evangelism? Since this transformation, I've concocted several hypothetical explanations for what happened. Maybe this person realized that associating any political affiliation with Jesus harmed the message of the gospel. Maybe this person realized that neither Trump nor the NRA can save us. Or maybe I'm being way too idealistic and this person just got tired of printing off new stickers to keep up with all of our nation's crazy political developments. I have no clue what the motivation was, but one thing is certain: something changed.

This now-blank van reminds me of one important truth in our Christian faith:

Change is possible.

You see, we expect many things from people who profess to follow Christ. We expect them to attend church regularly and to tithe at least 10% of their income. We expect them to read their Bibles and pray on a daily basis. We expect them to serve and to join small groups.

But do we expect that showing up at church and living life with flawed and broken people is going to change us into people who love God's people more? Do we expect that tithing is going to change our minds from a scarcity mentality to an abundance mentality? Do we expect that reading God's Word and praying is going to change us so that we intimately know God and are able to discern his voice?

Do we anticipate that these practices will lead to change? Do we expect the Holy Spirit to work through them in order to change us?

Do we just believe that "Jesus saves"... or do we believe that Jesus saves and changes?

It's taken me an embarrasingly long time to realize that I can't will myself into change. Truth is certainly necessary for change, but I can't will myself into believing it and living differently because of it. Information alone does not produce transformation. If that were the case, we'd be the most changed people in history thanks to all the information we can instantly access! For all of us who are achievers, this is bad news. It means that trying harder or applying more effort won't make us changed people.

Spiritual maturity happens at God's initiative rather than by our own pushing and pulling.

In John 15:1-8, Jesus instructs his followers that he is the vine and they are the branches. "If you remain in me and I in you," he says, "you will bear much fruit" (v. 5). Remaining in Jesus, dwelling in God's presence - this is the key to change.

God's truth changes us, but only when we invite the Spirit to make us receptive to the work that God wants to do in us. God invites all of us to open ourselves to his presence, to quit striving and to just be still and know.

Honestly, based upon the stickers, I never would have expected that the owner of that van could change. I had my mind made up about who they were and what they could or could not do. But this visible transformation gives me hope. If a van can be wiped clean of its unyielding, political messaging, then there's hope for me, too.

God is not finished with me yet. God continues to wipe me clean of the ways that I refuse to yield to his Spirit. He's removing all of my messaging and agendas that are not aligned with his kingdom. In his loving grace, he is inviting me to continue to change.

Because the God who comes to me can change me in ways I cannot manage by myself.

A few weeks ago, I was flying out of the Chicago airport and found myself sitting next to an elderly woman named Joann. Have you ever met someone and somehow knew right away that they were a treasure-trove of depth and experience? This 81-year-old woman was one of those instant connections for me. I initiated conversation, and before you knew it we were laughing over her story of getting run over by a nun at the Vatican and my story of throwing up in the Church of the Nativity (and then fleeing). We were at one point laughing so hard that I feared a flight attendant would come and tell us to quiet down.

Before we disembarked, Joann offered to give me a ride to my next destination and even kindly offered her home for me to stay the night. She wrote down both her home and cell phone numbers on a napkin so I could call her if I ever came back to Kansas City (she wants to take me out to dinner and give me a tour of all of her favorite parts of KC).

I left that plane that day in awe over this stranger's kindness and hospitality. She didn't really even know me. I wasn't "her people" - I was from a strange place called Columbus, Ohio. And yet she genuinely cared enough about me to invite me into her world. I don't know if I'll ever find myself back in KC, but there's great comfort in knowing that I already have a friend there.

Ever since this interaction, I haven't been able to stop thinking about how much hospitality has to do with Advent. 

I think about how Mary had to travel from her hometown of Nazareth all the way to Bethlehem, where she stayed with Joseph's extended family in their courtyard (not a barn at an inn as we tend to imagine). Even though they were technically family, they were strangers to the newly-wed Mary (and maybe even to Joseph).

I think about how the shepherds came to welcome this new baby, even though they were complete strangers to this visiting family. How chaotic it must have been to have a band of strangers packed together with Joseph's family in the tiny courtyard! Yet, Mary "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19).

And then Jesus grew up, and I think about all the times that Jesus was denied hospitality. Baby Jesus was welcomed with open arms, but adult Jesus was chased out of towns, scorned by the rich and the powerful, and ultimately killed in a way that was reserved for the most shameful of crimes.

Advent reminds us that Jesus became flesh and made his dwelling place among us. But it also reminds us that we did not receive him. Jesus was born in the world that he made, yet "the world did not recognize him" (John 1:10-14).

We as a culture tend to love the "holy infant so tender and mild," but adult Jesus is more difficult to contend with. Adult Jesus challenges our priorities, our motives, our hearts, our wants. Adult Jesus scatters those who are proud and brings down rulers from their thrones. Adult Jesus fills the hungry but sends the rich away empty (Luke 2:51-53).

We can relate to baby Jesus, tender and mild, but adult Jesus is a stranger to us from a very, very strange place.

But, oh, how I long to be like Joann! How I long to have a heart that overflows with generosity toward that which is strange. How I long to invite Jesus and all his wild kingdom ways into my world. How I long for Jesus to know that he has place here on earth with me.

How I long to extend radical hospitality so that Jesus, in all his strangeness, becomes that which is most familiar. 

Before he left this earth, Jesus talked about how he was going away to prepare a place for his followers (John 14:1-4). Jesus understands very well what hospitality means. But maybe Advent is an opportunity for our hearts to "prepare him room," too.

And when we prepare room for both baby Jesus and adult Jesus, all of heaven and nature sing.

Once upon a time, I stumbled upon an immersive, science-fictiony, interactive, art installation in an abandoned strip mall called "Otherworld." What appeared to be an unassuming storefront was actually a little-known secret of labyrinth-like rooms filled with neon colors, flashing lights, an array of textures, and subjects that ranged from cute and amusing to strange and disturbing.

I spent hours wandering around the rooms, mesmerized by all the things to see, touch, and hear. The rules in this place were completely different from the rules in the "outside world." Reality was reconstructed and things that would usually be impossible became possible (How did the lighting in one room make everything in it black-and-white, including my husband's neon green shoes?). Unlike other art museums, this one was designed for its visitors to interact with it. We could touch and manipulate and explore.

The craziest part was that Otherworld was right in my own neighborhood, biking distance from my house, and I had no idea such a place even existed.



After working my way through the entire exhibit, I sat down in the front foyer, exhausted. My brain was overloaded. All of my senses were overstimulated. I promptly went home and took a two-hour nap. I think I'm still recovering.

For the American Church, postmodernity tends to feel a lot like this art installation in Columbus, Ohio. Postmodernity is a strange way of viewing the world. It challenges the boundaries of our perceptions of reality and comes with its own set of rules that are contrary to those of modernity. Because of its rejection of much of modern thought, understanding postmodernity can be jarring, confusing, and perhaps even frustrating. We wander around the exhibit, trying to figure out what we're experiencing and what these "rules" are. We can end up lost.

But we as the Church need to start learning how to navigate postmodernity's strange terrain, because it's already making an appearance in our neighborhoods.

We just might not realize it yet.

Unfortunately, postmodernity has often been perceived by the American Church as the bogeyman. We're often resistant to this new way of thinking because we see it as a threat to Christianity. Like all ways of perceiving the world, modernity included, there are certainly some hazards and pitfalls about postmodernity that we need to navigate with care. We need to be diligent in critiquing all philosophies that are contrary to the mind of Christ (Colossians 2:8).

Yet, I think that the real reason why postmodernity seems so threatening to some churches is because they are so thoroughly modern.

I would like to propose that although postmodernity may be the enemy of modernity, it can potentially be an ally of the Christian faith.

But only if we are willing to listen, learn, and understand.

The American businessman and writer Max De Pree said that “the first responsibility of a leader is to define reality.” Over the next few posts, I'll be defining the new "reality" of postmodernity. Drawing from the philosophical thought of people who are WAY smarter than me, I'll be sharing some basic tools to help us navigate postmodernity's rules. This series on postmodernity will consist of the following five posts:

1. Postmodernity in Our Neighborhoods
2. Postmodernity 101 - Modernism vs. Postmodernism
3. Postmodernity 102 - Deconstructionism
4. Postmodernity 103 - Prove Your Trustworthiness
5. Postmodernity 104 - The Power of Story

Women have been preaching about Jesus ever since his first female followers found his tomb empty. They've been prophesying since the days of Miriam, if not before.

The books of Acts and Romans tell us that women preached, prophesied, and led churches in the first century Church. Evidence from the first few centuries reveal that women continued to preach and hold offices within their local churches.

But today? Women are preaching on Instagram, on Twitter, on blogs.

They're preaching at conferences, Bible studies, retreats.

They're preaching everywhere but in church on Sunday mornings.

Where are all the Miriams? The Lydias? The Junias? Why aren't their voices being heard within our local churches today?

Why is it so easy to find women praying, prophesying, and preaching on Instagram but so difficult to find women doing the same things within our local churches? Why can we can find them on podcasts, on blogs, on email subscriptions, but not on our church websites?

Because our churches are not making room for women to preach from the pulpit, women are flocking to spaces outside the local church where their voices are being heard.

It's no secret that white, male pastors are the primary voices who are discipling our American congregations today. If 50% of our population is female (which is a low percentage, as there are typically more women than men in our churches today), why aren't they being represented in the church's leadership? When our churches don't have female voices making decisions and representing the women in the pews, our worship services, programs, and even sermons are in some ways "men's ministry." After all, if it's "women's ministry" when a woman preaches or leads a Bible study, shouldn't we at least be consistent with our messaging?

I have a theory that the reason why there are so many women's ministry resources is because women don't have a voice from the platform. Have you seen how many women's resources there are? It's overwhelming! Now, don't get me wrong: some women are specifically called to minister to other women, and we should celebrate this. However, I fear that many women create and lead women's material because there doesn't seem to be very many other opportunities available to them. Think about it: when was the last time you ever heard a man say that he's called to "men's ministry"? I can't say I've ever heard anyone ever say that. They're called to just "ministry."

This isn't just about churches who refuse to ordain women -

Even churches who do recognize female preachers are not hiring, mentoring, or inviting women to share the pulpit.

If we look at our elder boards and preaching calendars and notice that women are not being represented well, we need to start making room for them. We need to start filling our platforms with women, and not just during times when we're out of town, not just because we're desperate for a pulpit to fill. We need to grant women these positions because their voice matters and they represent a segment of the image of God that men cannot represent alone. This is where it gets hard: to make room, you sometimes need to step aside or relinquish control. Handing the decision-making and the microphone over to others is one of the most mature marks of a leader.

Church, there are Priscillas and Deborahs and Huldahs and Junias and Chloes and Phoebes and Johannas in our pews.

Their mouths are already overflowing with sermons - they're just not being heard in our churches.

Wow, how did my name get on THIS?

I'm as shocked as all of you are that my name somehow stayed on this project - I kept waiting for the editors to pull it all the way up until it was published. Alas, I somehow fooled them into believing that I actually know things about the Old Testament and... stuff!

The fact that I was a contributor says a whole lot about my co-writer (and editor of the series), Alex, and far less about me. Alex has been one of my biggest champions and cheerleaders. I wouldn't be where I am without his professional mentorship, and I'm grateful to him for believing in me.

Here are five more things you need to know about this commentary:

1. Alex Varughese may be a giant of an Old Testament scholar, but he needed my celebrity status to really sell this book.

2. Jesus endorsed this commentary, but we had to cut his foreword because we were limited in space.

3. I finished my section a whole year in advance of the due date because I looked at the date wrong (as far as "fails" go, I'm sure glad it was early instead of late). This mistake's the making of a horror movie: the manuscript has been haunting me and tormenting me ever since. Now that this book is published, I can finally lay that ghost to rest... I think.

4. Fundamentalists break three commandments just thinking about this commentary (four if it's read in conjunction with Joseph Coleson's work on Genesis 1-11).

5. The green spine looks really great on your shelf, so even if you never open it, you'll have great home decor!

My section is the Joseph stories (chs. 37-50), so if you find any typos in this section... it's all on me.

And if you do happen to learn something from reading it... it's all on God.

Snag a copy here!