Sharing My Imperfect Story

Here’s the deal: I’ve been a Christian my entire life. God chose me first, but then I began the life-long process of choosing Him — every single day choosing Him, and a lot of times failing.

I used to believe stuff because “the Bible says so,” but now I believe stuff because Jesus says so. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Bible, and I even believe what it says, but I love and believe it because I first learned to love and believe Jesus. He’s alive, didn’t you know?

A lot of times I’m scared to write about the things Jesus is teaching me because I feel like I don’t know enough. I’m not versed in Greek, haven’t read many commentaries by dead people, and, for the most part, think listening to sermons is boring. I don’t understand football metaphors because I don’t understand football, and jokes about cheap husbands and shopaholic wives don’t resonate with me because I’m the one who’d spend way too much money at J.Crew if Megan didn’t keep me in line. Most sermons have at least one football metaphor and a shout-out to the ladies who shop too much, and so I’d rather read or sing or dance. Or just listen.

My very favorite book is Hebrews (Romans on other days), but if you ask me to tell you which verse is where, you’ve asked the wrong person. I remember what it says, but I surely don’t remember where it says it. (High-five if you love Hebrews, the book, and the people too.)

God’s Word came alive to me when I stopped trying to digest it verse-by-verse, chapter-by-chapter, and starting swallowing it whole. The verses and chapters came into focus when I stopped trying to make sense of them with the little flashlight of my own understanding and started reading under the Light of the World. The story was clearer and more vibrant. And it was beautiful.

If you ask me a question, my answer is more likely to be, “I don’t know,” than anything else. Because even with the Light of the World, my eyes still see dimly. I still don’t understand more than I do. And I’d rather not pretend. I’d rather be authentic and undone than artificially whole. I’d rather share my imperfect loose-ends life with you than market a tautly woven work of fiction at you. I’d rather walk with you than lead you, following Jesus and His righteousness instead of our own.

I have doubts, I make mistakes and I get things wrong. All the time. Every day. But I’m still here, I’m still breathing, and He’s still speaking. I don’t write to lecture or change or even teach you. I write because I just have to — He put it in me. So I ask for grace and patience and understanding, because I need them.

My story isn’t the only one — you’ve got one too. And I think you’re supposed to share it. You don’t have to blog like me, but you can bake a cake for a friend just because, or you can buy an old motorcycle and fix it up in your garage, or you can even watch a game of football and yell at your TV. But while you’re eating and fixing and cheering, make sure you’re giving and receiving and sharing.

Here’s some good news: Jesus is our friend, our very real friend!

He’s in our lives, so let’s talk about what He’s teaching and speaking and doing now. Today. Let’s talk about how we love Him, and how, oh, how He loves us! The story didn’t end with the last word of Revelation. He’s writing right now, and this chapter is as beautiful as any.

After all, He’s alive, didn’t you know?


Sometimes You’ve Just Got to Do Stuff

There are days dreaming feels like enough, when the future is comfortable within the confines of your imagination. And then there are days you’ve just got to grab a camera and some friends, get in the car, and start making things happen. Yesterday was one of those doing days.

The people watching us take pictures for Megan’s jewelry shop and Michelle’s paper goods store probably thought we were a little crazy. Well, we are. But the people whose dreams come true are the ones who are crazy enough to believe they can.


Michelle was kind enough to snap some photos of Megan and me.

Weekend in Savannah

Last month, in honor of Megan’s birthday, we took a semi-spontaneous road trip to Savannah. We spent a long weekend meandering through the shade-covered squares and cobblestone alleys of the colonial city, and found refreshment in the butter-soaked lowcountry cooking and rest beneath the blooming dogwood trees. I didn’t take many pictures (sometimes it’s good to just be), but nevertheless here’s a taste of our little adventure.