Bent

A nearly broken tree still growing towards the light - photo captured during a hike on Hot Springs Mountain

This is the first post on my rebranded website, and it feels appropriate to address that here as I begin to write publicly again. At this moment, the website itself still has gaps of information because there has been a lot of change in my life in the last two decades, the last two years, the last two months…

Essentially I have learned that my God is far more creative than I am in the plans he has, that it is best for me to hold ambitions and plans loosely, and that the sooner I can let go of my own expectations and burdensome identities the more fully I can embrace what is ahead with joy and peace. I am more than a preacher’s kid, more than a doctor’s wife, more than a mom of four kids and various pets, more than an ordained woman, more than an Enneagram number (hello to the 1w2’s out there), more than a teacher and preacher, more than my successes or failures, more than an associate pastor, more than the body I try to maintain, more than the opinion others have of me, more than what I write, what I say, or what I do.

My value comes not from my merits. I am valuable because I am a beloved daughter of God who invites me into his mission on earth, not out of need but because he wants to offer fulfillment and wholeness, - a mission which is multifaceted, complicated, and beautiful. I could not have confidently said the last sentence to you two years ago, and, practically, I still struggle to live out the implications of my true identity on a daily basis.

Contemplating this journey I was drawn to the image of an oak tree. I come from South Carolina where live oaks hundreds of years old cast shade with their beautifully undulating branches. The many bends in the limbs occur through injury and the steady pursuit of light. To impede healing or to grow in a downward direction would be to deny the very nature of the tree.

Too often, we see the twists and turns of our lives as failures to stay on a better path (paths of expectation or those taught to us that are just too narrow for God’s greatness). What if instead we could pull back to see the beauty of strength that develops through hardship, to notice the steady, though occasionally slight, upward slant towards light, and to celebrate critical turning points where we chose our divine nature over the gravitational pull of brokenness?

And here is the best part about live oaks: it doesn’t matter how asymmetrically the tree grows, the root system will provide a foundation strong and wide enough to support it. Our journeys will never be too much for God - alleluia! With God as our foundation, Jesus as the one who fully opened up the light to us, and the Holy Spirit which guides and strengthens our steps, we can confidently look towards the future through the lens of promise and redemption rather than guilt and fear.

Revelations lead to new beginnings, and I am a different person now than the one who began writing years ago. I needed more room to write. I also needed a space to contemplate things of the heart and the soul, to ponder the nuances of identity and calling, and to share parts of my story that need to be heard in order to normalize experiences and bring encouragement. The website had to change to accommodate this new creation.

Writing is a spiritual practice for me. It is a holy space where I can physically hand my burdens over to God and where he brings his promises to my listening soul. I need this practice more than ever now because a new season awaits me. In a few days I will begin training as a hospital chaplain. This is hugely different from my experiences pastoring in churches where I primarily taught, planned, and built relationships in my local community all while being a very available parent to my four young children. I don’t doubt that God has brought me here because it was not in my plans or even in my imagination a few months ago, but it is also so perfectly answered a multitude of prayers - this chaplaincy is another bend towards obedience, towards light. I can trust that I will not fall, but growing pains and difficulty are sure to come.

Lord, let me remember those promises that you are bigger than my fears. You have called me to this place knowing exactly what season I am in and you are faithful enough to equip me to serve my family and hurting families in the hospital without consuming me. May the bends in my journey rely on your sure foundation and create a beautiful monument of a life perpetually pointing to you. Amen.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.

Jeremiah 17:7-8