Everyday Disciple: Sarah's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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Sarah is one of my oldest and dearest friends. Our friendship started in our days together in our high school’s field marching band, and it’s matured and stretched with time and distance. We’ve had our fair share of heart-to-heart phone calls while folding laundry. And ice cream. Lots of ice cream. 

Sarah is passionate about her job in education, and it's my delight to share her thoughts with you.

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I am the Director of Early Education at Manhattan Christian Academy in New York City.  I oversee the Early Ed department (programming, supervising teachers, etc.) within our preschool – 8th grade private Christian school.

My school is in a neighborhood of low socioeconomic status, with many immigrant families who are either unable to engage or unaware of the ways to advocate for their children. Some families do not know about our school, and many that do know about us assume they could never afford a private Christian education. But the school is very mission-minded; we strive to provide a godly, quality, affordable education for all families. As our school continues to grow, I see God’s mission being fulfilled, one family at a time, as He works to restores brokenness and flood dark places with His light.

Prior to this job, I worked as a teacher for a public school. I thought I would be a classroom teacher for years until I retired, but God obviously had something else in mind for me. When I transitioned to this school and this job, I wasn’t quite sure why God was leading me here, but I was certain He was doing just that. 

Now, two years in, I realize I have a more far-reaching influence as an administrator than I ever had as a teacher. I very much feel I’m still growing into my role, but it has truly been a blessing. 

In my previous job, I was the only Christian in my school, and unfortunately instead of “shining my light,” I allowed myself to be overcome by the world in my words and actions. I followed the example of those around me instead of seeking to emulate Christ to my non-believing coworkers. 

Now, being in a Christian environment has pushed me to immerse myself in God’s Word (since I’m teaching it to children) and to monitor my words and actions from a gospel lens (since I have true accountability and community). 

I will never forget the first time I met with a teacher and ended the meeting in prayer. I had seen my principal do this, and it was such a freeing (yet foreign) experience to welcome God into our professional life! Every time I pray with a teacher, or a parent, or a student, I am reminded of this great blessing.

The most unique challenge for me has been finding the balance between grace and professionalism. I’d say they’re on opposing ends of a spectrum but aren’t entirely mutually exclusive. Take, for example, when a teacher doesn’t turn in her lesson plans on time. I have a choice to make: should I show professionalism or grace exclusively? Or a compromise of the two? 

Professionalism would say to the teacher, “You have failed to upload your lesson plans according to the agreed-upon guidelines in pg. 8 of the staff handbook. Tomorrow we will hire a substitute teacher for your class while you work in the computer lab on your next three weeks of plans. The cost of the substitute will be deducted from your next paycheck.” 

Grace, on the other hand, would respond by first asking why the lesson plans weren’t submitted, and then weighing the validity of the response (Did the teacher forget? Has she just procrastinated? Was there a family emergency?). 

Often, I find myself striking a compromise between professionalism and grace—maybe telling the teacher her excuse is valid but to just please give advanced notice next time this happens, or telling the teacher enough is enough and the next time it happens she’ll pay for her own sub. Though this is a minor example of decision-making in my position, I’ve found that decisions in “gray” situations are what make my job most challenging but, in the end, most rewarding. I love fruitful (and sometimes difficult) conversations with teachers as I coach and encourage them in their calling as educators.

A special part of my job entails teaching a Bible lesson every morning to the 60+ children in the program, and through that experience, I’m challenged to look at familiar Bible stories through a critical, Gospel-centered lens. As I prepare and teach each Bible story to the children, I first have to understand it for myself—and not just who did what in the story, but really what each story says about the character of God and our need for a Savior. 

This has pushed me to learn so much and grow spiritually. Often when I’m teaching (even something like the birth of Jesus, a story I’ve heard my entire life), I get goosebumps as the power of the story and the truth of the message comes through. It's a challenging and beautiful thing to be in a position where my spiritual wellness has a direct impact on young children and their understanding of God. This holds me accountable daily in my pursuit of the Lord. 

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If you would like to be a part of this project, I would love to hear your story. Contact me for more information.

On Quirky Faith

I've always loved those I-know-someone-who-knows-someone-who-you-should-know connections. And I've found them to be especially powerful in the writing world. It's a gift to get connected to other people who share the call to be a steward of the written word. 

Mindy and I met through one of those circuitous connections, and it's been a delight to get to know her a bit through her blog, Quirky Faith, over the last several months. I'm over there today, sharing about insecurities, my desire to be seen, and the realization that began to set my heart free.

Head on over to Quirky Faith to read...

Everyday Disciple: Sandi's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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The first time I met Sandi, we made a blanket fort together in her then-boyfriend-now-husband’s childhood home. He is one of Scott’s dearest friends from high school, and that was just the first of our seemingly annual home-for-Christmas gatherings. Over the years, we’ve gotten to know each other better visit-by-visit, as we talk and laugh at the guys’ antics. The time that crew all spends together is always so precious. This year, it included an adventure to D.C. and some pretty amazing burgers. 

I have so much respect for Sandi’s heart and the compassion she pours into her work, and I’m glad to let you in on a piece of it today. 

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All throughout high school, I thought I wanted to be a nurse. After I graduated, I went on a three-month mission’s trip/internship in South Africa. On that trip, I met two social workers. They educated me on what a social worker was, and I quickly aligned with the thought of seeking social justice for people who were oppressed, marginalized and were the “least of these” in our world. 

I emailed my mom and asked her to call the college I was supposed to attend and tell them I was changing my major. I now have an undergrad in social work and am about to enter my last semester of graduate school for my masters in social work. 

I work as the Family Services Coordinator at a Children’s Advocacy Center (CAC) in Dayton, OH. My main role is forensically interviewing children (ages 3-18) who are possible victims of severe physical abuse or sexual abuse. Our center also sees youth who are at risk for human trafficking or have been identified as being trafficked. We work with law enforcement, the FBI and Homeland Security, as well as child protective agencies and the prosecutor’s office, to seek justice for victims. 

Every day, I see a lot of brokenness. Physical and sexual abuse are such broken parts of this world, but every day, I also get to see a small part of restoration. This does not always happen that particular day, but the little glimmers of hope that a child is now safe and protected remind me God is in the process of restoring brokenness. He cares about those who are lowly and oppressed. He cares about those who have been beaten, and He especially cares for children.  

My faith has inspired me to advocate and stand beside those who have been told they are not good enough or they aren’t welcome at the table. God’s love is for all people, no matter who they are, their situation, or their background. I think when we invite those who think they are uninvited, it opens a world of doors for sharing the gospel with people. While I do not get to do this explicitly in my job, I can show grace, love, and hope to people who think they do not deserve those things, and I am inspired to do that because He does that exact thing for me every day. Whether it’s other staff, or the kids and families we serve, I want them to know they are loved (and deserving of love) no matter their story.  

Some days, I get home and I cannot imagine talking to another person or having another conversation with someone. I need people in my community who understand that when I say I cannot do something, it is probably because my day was filled with a lot of trauma, and I am trying to recover from hearing about it. I need people who can join me for yoga and wine and are okay if I don’t talk at all.  

The other thing I need from my Christian community? Prayer. This is such a bible-school answer, but it is so true. I can be prideful in my work, and I need to be humbled. I cannot do what I do without the support of the Holy Spirit giving me the emotional and physical energy to do this work. Knowing that people are praying for me is encouraging.  

As I think about fellow believers who know what I do, I often hear the response “How do you do it?” or “That is so sad, I can’t imagine.” But as I look around our neighborhood and our city, it’s hard for me to grasp how they “can’t imagine”—how they don’t see the suffering and hurt right under their noses. I don’t want people to say they can’t imagine this, because it is happening…everywhere. 

I wish I could tell them—Go and meet your neighbors, learn about them, love them, and be there for them when they need someone. Know their struggles and support them. Get outside your bubble, and go love people, with honest intentions of loving them, whether they come to Jesus or not. Just love them, and let Him do the work in their hearts. God is using each of us to help restore the brokenness in this world, not just those who are doing it as their jobs. 

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If you would like to be a part of this project, I would love to hear your story. Contact me for more information.

Barren Elizabeth: Meditations on Hope

“But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.” - Luke 1:7

What a lifetime of sorrow there is in these verses. How long had it taken for Elizabeth and Zechariah's youthful innocence to fade, tarnished and battered by months and years of dashed hope?

Had they blamed each other? Had they blamed God? Was Elizabeth fearful, bracing herself for the day Zechariah would leave her to find someone who could give him a male heir?

What rituals and remedies did they try as they desperately grasped at slivers of hope?

How many stares and half-heard whispers reminded them of their shame? How many accusations pointed fingers at imagined sins that had closed her womb? How many prying meddlers poked at the oozing sore that was Elizabeth’s heart?

How many tears had Elizabeth cried? As she watched her sisters and cousins and friends have their children in succession? As she listened to their little voices, their playful laughter echo in her empty house? As she watched these children grow, these children have children of their own?

Had Elizabeth come, as Hannah had done, weeping before the Lord, praying for Him to remember her? Had she felt, as Rachel had, that she would die if she was not given a child?

Each month, she bled out the hope of a life within, watching dreams of a child seep from her body. She watched her body slowly wither with age, until it was finally dry, empty, barren, until all glimmers of hope that maybe someday something would change were gone.

And yet. And yet in this place of decades-long waiting, in this fragile place in Elizabeth and Zechariah’s heart where all hope had faded, the Lord would appear. He would appear, and He would give them a son.

Is it any wonder that Zechariah had a lot of questions to ask when the angel came to announce this to him? Is it any wonder he gawked at the possibility? After so many years, is it surprising he was skeptical?

Is it any wonder that Elizabeth hid herself for five months, treasuring the moment she’d longed for over a lifetime, hiding herself from further spectacle?

Someone this week said that grief and hope are two sides of the same coin. It is our lack—the grief, the longing, the unanswered questions—that provides ground for our hope to stand. Hope stands in this barren wilderness, and it defiantly and faith-fully sees a garden, rich, fruitful, alive. Hope stands in burned out ruins and refuses to accept that blackened shell as the end of the story. Hope inspires praise when our hands are still empty and our hearts still broken. Hope remains expectant, ready and waiting when the Lord makes His appearance.

And appear He will, though it may be in the most unexpected, impossible, and incomprehensible of places. In the womb of a barren woman. In the womb of a virgin.

Everyday Disciple: Joshua's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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Scott and I had the privilege of working with Josh at camp. They were high school friends and spurred one another on in their passion for discipleship. I was glad when Josh contacted me to share his thoughts about how his work in a cabinet shop relates to this on-going concern for seeing disciples of Christ thrive and grow. I hope you enjoy his insight.

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When I was in high school, I was passionate about discipleship. Following Christ meant far more than being a part of weekly youth group. It meant finding ways to serve, to study and meditate the way of Christ, and to encourage others in that same path. 

When discipleship is a passion of yours, and you strongly desire to see others follow Christ, the stereotypical conclusion is that you should pursue ministry. Following conventional wisdom, I went to college with plans to be a youth pastor or potentially an associate pastor.

Over those years of schooling, I worked a fulltime ministry job for a year and got married, all while continuing to grow in my own personal walk with Christ and in what it looks like to follow Him. Our little family began to grow, and I began to prioritize time for my family. In a very real sense family is a significant ministry, a kind of intensive discipleship, and I wanted to make sure I was not absent from that.

At first glance, it might not seem to make a lot of sense, why a college graduate with a Bible degree is working in cabinet shop, though the story about how I got there is relatively simple. I wanted a job close to home, with reasonable hours. I have always enjoyed creating and had recently begun a few woodworking projects. So, I stopped in at a cabinet shop a mile or two down the road and started working there shortly thereafter.

Some have said working with wood is a meditative experience. When sanding, finishing, or building, there are ample opportunities to, as Brother Lawrence writes about, “practice the presence of God.” To experience Christ in your work, as you shape the wood, by meditating on who He is, or on what you have been learning or studying recently. In the Gospels, we read that Jesus was a carpenter before He started His ministry, the son of a carpenter. There is something wholesome in creating, in crafting with your hands. In small ways we follow in the footsteps of our Creator when we use our God-given creativity.

When you work with wood, especially with fine trim carpentry or cabinetry, a lot of time is spent on the finishing process—the sanding, staining, etc. While this kind of work requires a lot of attention to detail, it is not a brain-intensive job, which frees my mind to meditate and pray. Recently God has really placed on my heart a burden for the Syrian refugees. So, as I sand doors or cabinets, I pray and meditate on it, seeking the Lord’s face on behalf of these downtrodden people and asking how I can help. 

While this is good, however, what about my hopes of making disciples? What about that passion I had before? Were those four years of schooling a waste? Shouldn’t I be putting my degree to work?

For some, your passion and purpose in regards to seeking to be and make disciples plays directly into your work. However, I view work differently.

While there is something to be said for the sacredness of working with your hands to bring glory to God, for me, I work with my hands to free myself to do discipleship outside of work. We see Paul’s example through the book of Acts as a tentmaker—he had a simple trade profession he used to support himself while he discipled and taught. For me, I view my work, enjoyable and grace-filled as it is, in the same way. I work to, simply, provide for my family, so we are not a burden as I seek to make disciples and to teach.

We are a part of a small church that believes strongly in the priesthood of the believer as described by the writer of the book of Hebrews. The reality is this, when it comes to the Church: Everyone has a part to play. In Ephesians 4, Paul writes about the gifts that Christ has given to the church—apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, teachers. These gifts present in the body of believers ought to be exercised.

While my Bible training has little influence in my work on a professional level (though I would argue, that the time spent studying and learning has been valuable and has informed my thoughts and beliefs), it does not go to waste. I share in the responsibility of preaching/teaching at our small church, along with several others. In a real sense, one could describe my work and life as that of a “tent-making” missionary, which I would argue is a description that might well apply to each of us. 

One does not need to go into ministry to minister. One does not need to be a pastor to preach.  God has equipped His people to do the work of His kingdom. In light of this view, then, my work is not an end to itself, but simply a means of support for my family, as I seek to be faithful to the gifts He has given me. As a disciple of Christ, learning to abide in Him, my work is an exercise in grace, and in meditation. Though I view my work in more utilitarian terms, there is still a richness there that cannot be denied. In little ways throughout our days, we are to walk the path of discipleship. Every experience and task can be used to the glory of God. We need to be faithful to the gifts God has given us.

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If you would like to be a part of this project, I would love to hear your story. Contact me for more information.