*Drawing by my daughter, Darla Taylor
When you’re raised in church and have heard the crucifixion and resurrection countless times from all four gospels, even memorizing parts of it, it’s easy to arrive at Easter with a “same ol’, same ol’” perspective. I usually ask God to show me something new–whether in the story itself or the way that it stirs my soul.
Yesterday after reading about the soldiers dividing up Jesus’ clothing and the humiliation that accompanied being bruised, beaten, naked, and mocked in front of the masses, my friend Melissa read an excerpt from The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. Corrie and her sister Betsie suffered in a concentration camp during World War II. Corrie lived to write about the experience and God’s presence in it:
"Life in Ravensbruck took place on two separate levels, mutually impossible. One, the observable, external life, grew every day more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God, grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory.
"Sometimes I would slip the Bible from its little (sack) with hands that shook, so mysterious had it become to me. It was new; it had just been written. I marveled sometimes that the ink was dry...I had read a thousand times the story of Jesus' arrest--how soldiers had slapped Him, laughed at Him, flogged Him. Now such happenings had faces and voices.
"Fridays--the recurrent humiliation of medical inspection. The hospital corridor in which we waited was unheated and a fall chill had settled into the walls. Still we were forbidden even to wrap ourselves in our own arms, but had to maintain our erect, hands-at-sides position as we filed slowly past a phalanx of grinning guards.
"How there could have been any pleasure in the sight of these stick-thin legs and hunger-bloated stomachs I could not imagine. Surely there is no more wretched sight than the human body unloved and uncared for.
"Nor could I see the necessity for the complete undressing: when we finally reached the examining room a doctor looked down each throat, another--a dentist presumably--at our teeth, a third in between each finger. And that was all. We trooped again down the long, cold corridor and picked up our X-marked dresses at the door.
"But it was one of these mornings while we were waiting, shivering in the corridor, that yet another page in the Bible leapt into life for me.
"He hung naked on the cross.
"...The paintings, the carved crucifixes showed at least a scrap of cloth. But this, I suddenly knew, was the respect and reverence of the artist. But oh--at the time itself, on that other Friday morning--there had been no reverence. No more than I saw in the faces around us now.
"'Betsie, they took His clothes too.'
"'Ahead of me I heard a little gasp. 'Oh, Corrie. And I never thanked Him…'
The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom
He hung naked on a cross. Voluntarily, He hung. With all my embarrassment, my shame, my nakedness, my failure, my sin; He hung. With all the power in the world to lower Himself and wipe out the mockers, He hung. Today, on Good Friday, I am struck that there was no reverence, no respect, no understanding that a bigger plan was in motion. There was chaos, devalued life, and nakedness.
Yet, Jesus wasn’t a victim of cruel, hardened soldiers and an angry people group, He was still the Almighty God with a plan. Easter's coming.
I was sitting in my discussion group at Bible Study, still a little distracted from a busy morning getting kids out the door. We were on the cusp of Sean changing jobs, I had a full week of projects, decisions, and the regular ins and outs of managing a household of seven. I had done my study, but a bit distractedly. My mind was already skipping ahead to the Costco trip I was planning that afternoon.
We were parked in John 10, the chapter about Jesus being the Good Shepherd. I tuned in as our group systematically answered the questions, “What would you conclude about Jesus and His identity from His words in John 10?” “What does Jesus give His sheep and why?”
Out of nowhere I was gut punched with a memory.
Hearing the questions out loud instantly transported me to another time I studied John, in this same place but seven years ago. Seven years ago I was living in a different town. I was in a different discussion group that met in a different room, but the set of questions was the same and that’s all it took to jar the memory. All year I’ve gone without thinking extensively about the study of John seven years ago…until the lesson on the Good Shepherd.
Seven years ago sucked. Everything was shaken. I had discovered hard things about my parent’s marriage and ugly things about their past. I felt like much of my childhood must have been a lie. I was trying to reconcile how to forgive the past when the past was bleeding all over the present. I was parenting three very small children while my own marriage had been drilled into the ground. I was stretched paying bills, stretched in the every day, with hard faith questions that needed answering. I was disoriented, defeated and beat up. I was curled up in my quiet time chair with my pile of regrets and “if only”s laid out on my lap. “Lord, I’m trying so hard to be faithful…why can’t I see you being faithful!?”
When I met Sean he was living in Warren Hall at Whitworth University. He loved Warren Hall with everything he had. He was dorm president and somehow managed to be dorm counselor as there was always someone in his room for prayer or conversation. He told me he wanted to finish his master’s degree and return to be Resident Director of Warren Hall. “Wouldn’t it be cool to live in the apartment here and hang out with all the future students?” I didn’t know someone could be so all-in, committed, heart tied to a dorm.
(Yes, this is us in Warren Hall. And yes, this is pretty much what it felt like when Sean was knocking...er...sweeping me off my feet.)
When we got married we had to move out of Warren Hall and into an apartment. Our first year married was the year of radio. Sean started with the school radio station and then landed an internship at the local Christian radio station. He loved radio with everything he had. He dreamed about a career as a radio d.j. and explored different radio markets. After graduation when job options were slim, I suggested we move out and move on. It tore Sean apart to imagine leaving radio. He was all-in, committed, heart tied to radio. I matter of factly responded with, “You can stick with radio but we either have money for one month of rent or a U-haul. Go ahead and pick.”
Ultimately the U-haul won out and we trekked out to Lynden, WA. The goal was to make ends meet as quickly as possible so he landed a bartending job our first week living in a trailer in my parent’s driveway. Sean threw himself into learning drinks, studying technique, and watching Cocktail. He loved bartending with everything he had. It was the challenge, the people who would hang out until after hours pouring their hearts out, and the dynamic of something completely different. The last thing I had expected was him to be all-in, committed, heart tied to what was only intended to be a summer job.
The pastor of a new church in town came to the bar to talk to Sean about youth ministry. He was enthusiastic and had vision for what Sean could do to propel a nearly-new youth program. He was ready to hire Sean on the spot. When Sean came home to talk about it, he was hemming and hawing a bit. “I don’t know…do you think youth ministry would be a good fit?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Umm…yes. For sure. Yes.”
“That means I’d have to quit bartending…”
A wry smile from me. “Yes, but I think that’s ok. I think you’d like youth ministry.” I had a hunch that he might love youth ministry with all he had. I had a hunch he might be all-in, committed, heart tied to youth ministry.
I was right. It took all of two weeks for him to declare he had the best job ever.
For fifteen years Sean has loved youth ministry with all he has; all-in, committed, heart tied. He has grown from an optimistic, fun, zealous, mentor who throws huge concerts and builds epic youth rooms to a strategic, community building pastor who teaches students to have passion for Scripture. He is a dad who understands trauma, hard lives, and comes alongside hurting students. He used to work to inspire students. Today he works to disciple them.
*Adapted from a message I gave at a retreat Fall 2016
Scripture tells me Jesus is preparing a place for me in heaven. Well, since God knows the desires of my heart and the way He’s wired me, I’m sure the place He’s preparing reflects that. So then, let me tell you how to find me in heaven:
My place will be the one with the split rail fence. It has a long driveway lined with willow trees and probably resembles a Craftsman. The lawn is cut Lynden style–edged properly, golf course green, with immaculate mower lines. There are sunflowers and hydrangeas, a wrap around porch, hammock out back. The coffee pot is always on. Around me are fields, acres, quiet privacy. No one’s mansion is too close. Heaven is plenty big for me to have ample space, right? I’m a bit of an introvert. I’m independent. I’m self sufficient. I’m an American, dang it!
We had declared November the month of margin. At the end of the summer, I asked Sean to pick a month to take a break from extra events. We pushed hard over the summer with his d.j. business, projects, and side jobs for both of us. “We can only run hard for so long and I think we're going to need margin.” I was speaking at a women’s retreat the first weekend of November and we planned to have a relaxed month immediately following.
One evening at the end of October I was tucking my kids in and could hear my sister-in-law talking on the phone in the kitchen. “Which hospital? How soon? Let me write that down…” I hurried to the kitchen as she hung up the phone and turned to me. “It looks like Dad had a stroke. They are life flighting him to Portland.”
It turned out my father-in-law had bilateral subdural hematoma; a brain bleed. The doctors made no promises about recovery.
Miraculously, they were able to do surgery and even more miraculously, he is recovering. Sean cancelled his last two events in October and spent two weeks in Portland as his dad began recovery and we began asking, “What next?”
November took a different shape as Sean and his dad sat in a hospital room making hard decisions. Instead of transitioning back to his huge beautiful home a block from the beach in Long Beach, WA,
The first time (of hundreds) I watched Frozen with my kids, I was laughing at the similarities between Anna and Elsa and me and my sister, Jasmine. She’s the composed, elegant, rational thinking, head-turning-gorgeous character (who might seem like the main character). I’m the idealistic, slightly awkward (but in an endearing way, I’m sure), talkative and relational sister (who is actually the main character. Shush, Jasmine. It’s my blog and I can tell it how I want).
When we dressed up for Haley’s birthday in December as what was kind of an inside joke between sisters, it exploded into job offers. We laughed and reminded people that we are moms in our mid thirties, not Disney princesses. One offer was too good to pass up, so we donned dresses, wigs and makeup in 90 degrees to greet kids at the Northwest Washington Fair.
We passed out candy, had fantastic conversations with hundreds of kids (including two 5 year olds who belted out "Let it Go" for us), took pictures until our faces twitched, and then snuck into our break room to drink gallons of water and slip ice packs into our dresses.
I’d love to be a Disney princess. It’s not quite the type of business I imagined, but anything with my sister is a bonus. She’s kind of my security blanket anyway.
As we talked about the princess gig (between people asking for our business cards and website), I began realizing there are simply too many things I love to do…and this might be causing a bit of a quandary.
It was the night before Everett’s eighth birthday and everyone was excited for the festivities to come. I was sitting at the table with all my kids and took a breath for my "Preparing for Big Events and Let Downs" speech. One of my children struggles with differentiating between good and bad big feelings (all big feelings cause meltdowns; including happy excitement) and it has made me intentional about preparing for big feelings.
“Alright guys. Tomorrow is Everett’s birthday and it’s going to be awesome. We are going to have a great time. However–“
“We already know what you’re going to say,” Darla interjected.
I raised my eyebrows and she continued, “You’re going to say that there are going to be good moments but also bad moments. It won’t be perfect but we can still enjoy the good even when there is bad. Right?” She flashed an I’m-too-smart-for-my-own-good smile at me and I laughed.
“Pretty much verbatim, Darla. Big happy feelings can quickly swing hard to big sad feelings.”
I remind my kids regularly that we live in this weird paradox; the world is a fallen, dark, sinful place, yet God leaves His handprints on everything and uses even sinful, dark things to demonstrate His glory. When His light shines into the dark, the contrast awes us. We tend to think of our mountains and valleys separate but that has not been my experience. Often the sweetest comes in the hardest. Many of my spiritual victories have come on the heels of personal defeats.
I used to have this idea that writing a book involved an idea, creating a rough draft, editing, submitting a final draft, and getting it published. Then, of course, comes marketing, book signings, and Today show appearances. Pretty straightforward, right?
Of all the things I’ve written and projects I’ve worked on, none has had so unconventional a life as the devotional formerly known as A;life. A;life started out of a need, a decade ago. Sean and I were leading middle and high school students who were committing their lives to Christ but had no idea where to start in studying the Bible. There were topical devotionals but none that explained the story of the Bible, the character of God, and basics of spiritual disciplines. I couldn’t find a good devotional to meet the need so I wrote one.
A;life was a 29 day devotional geared toward teens. Each day had a little bit of explanation, Scripture to read, questions to answer, and a model prayer. At one point it had a DVD with it and a leader insert so it could be used in a small group setting.
We started realizing the need didn’t stop at our own youth ministry and gave copies of A;life to other youth ministries lacking resources. It circled around for years. At some point we dropped the DVD as it was outdated, and I’m not sure where most of the leader inserts went.
A year and a half ago I decided to rewrite A;life. I extended it to a 40 day devotional and took out teen specific references so it could easily apply to any age. I talked to connections with two publishing companies and was hopeful something would come of it.
For various reasons, I began to doubt publishing would happen. After a series of ups and downs, I was thinking I’d shelve the idea. My writing mentor, ghostwriter Jeanne Halsey (who is the one who pushes me when I think I’ve already pushed enough), taught me about self-publishing and convinced me to give it a try. Between her urging, Lisa Oliver’s exceptional design work, and Marti Eide’s editing, we self-published the devotional, now called Brand New; A Field Guide to Life in Christ.
The beautiful irony is as I’ve received proof copies (first printed wrong… second printed wrong…third time’s a charm!) I also received a contract from a publishing company. It’s a throw-up-your-hands-and-shake-your-head moment when you’ve spent years bouncing around a project and then everything happens at once.
The next turn in the journey will be meeting with an editing and marketing team to see what direction this project may go. I’m slightly giddy not only about publishing this devotional, but the learning curve with it. I’m learning plenty about what not to do next time and trusting that God will still lead and have His hand in this project as I bumble through it.
I’m suspending purchases of the self-published version so that we can officially move forward to improve and publish A;life/Brand New/Whatever we decide to call this devotional! Now for a word from the publisher:
The Lexham Press team is thrilled to have this opportunity to work with Shilo and Sean in such an important area of ministry in the life of the church. Shilo’s book addresses a real need for solid and accessible resources aimed at brand-new Christians who need to learn (and delight in!) the story of their new identity in Jesus. I’m looking forward to seeing what the Lord continues to accomplish through their ministry, and excited for the part we get to play in bringing this fruit of their labors to publication.
Brannon Ellis, Associate Publisher, Lexham Press (lexhampress.com)
It could be said that I’ve been busy this winter. My house is full of fantastic distractions, activity, and conversation. There are currently seven of us. We're juggling jobs, schedules, laundry, life decisions, and emotional needs. And that's just the adults.
Photo cred: Evan and Lisa Oliver
The kids have school, sports, even more laundry, and constant questions. Perhaps I should include our eight chickens, one rabbit, and high maintenance lab puppy. The animals require their own care, attention, and “did you seriously rip up my door mat again!?!” redirection. If I never left my property (as is often tempting), I would still never run out of things to do.
Photo cred: Evan and Lisa Oliver
Sean and Megan had six jobs between them this year. Between pastoring, d.j.ing, camps, coffee, salon, and catering, the kids and I regularly ask, "Which job today?" as they head out the door. I've worked hard to keep strict boundaries for myself, knowing there will be other seasons I can stretch myself outside the home. For now I'm needed to keep the home front covered. Yet...I couldn't resist a tiny job of my own when the kids' school asked me to be on the substitute list. I love being at the school a few days a month but am determined to make being home first priority as it's Haley Kate's last year before kindergarten.
After Rits and Pearl returned to the United States their lives filled with more children, more ministry, and a constant stream of people in and out of their home to care for. Their experience in Africa and with Moses caused them to live with open doors and open hearts, instead of closing down in fear and disappointment. They ultimately adopted two little boys from Korea after the Korean War, adding them to their six biological children. (Ah, but those are miraculous stories for another day.)
The Tademas always had room for one more around the kitchen table, if everyone would scoot over a little bit. Pearl could add another cup of broth to the soup and set another cup of dark coffee out without feeling a smidge inconvenienced. Their attitudes were passed along to their children who blessed them with forty-five grandchildren. Twenty-three of those grandchildren were adopted with miraculous stories of their own. (Like I said...stories for another day.)
In 2003 Rits and Pearl’s daughter Laura called with an announcement. “Mom, I’m lonesome for Moses. I am praying that we can find him and get in contact with him.” Laura had been young when her family left Africa, but she couldn’t shake the memory she had of carrying around the little boy she called brother.
Pearl was surprised by her daughter’s determined idea. Her response was realistic but as usual, acknowledged God’s ability to work miracles. “Wow, Laura. I don’t even know if he is still called Moses or if he is alive. If he is alive, where would he be living?” Pearl’s mind processed the possibility as she spoke, “For forty-five years we have had no contact with him…" Then Pearl’s voice took on her familiar faith filled laugh, “But, I guess God is a mighty magnet and can find any needle in however old a haystack.”
Just throwing myself out there a bit...