The farmhouse we live in doesn’t have air conditioning.  In Western Washington there are only a few weeks a year we need it anyway.  During the hot weeks we keep the lights off and open windows and doors because the breeze keeps us sane.  We pull out fans. I allow popsicles all day.  We are productive in the early hours so in the hot afternoon hours we can race to the river to cool down and play.  ​

Our side hustle game is strong.  By “strong” I mean “slightly out of control”.
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Sean’s first side hustle developed over a decade ago.  It’s a non-profit called Big Oak.  Big Oak partners with local churches.  It has involved putting on camps for teens, concerts/worship nights, resources for pastors and youth pastors, trainings, and a large truck called The Stagecoach (which was literally a truck with a stage built on the back end). ​

The latest business is The Tin Can Cigar Co., which may be the most unconventional thus far.  Sean gutted and renovated an air stream trailer, turning it into the most unique  (and mobile) cigar lounge that ever was.    ​

I used to think we get swept up in these random, strange ventures that are somewhat unrelated.  Now I realize these all carry a thread of who Sean is.  Sean is an extroverted entrepreneur.  He loves creating and he loves partnering with one thousand people to do it.  His vision is big and he is brave to do things other people would be afraid to fail at.  The side hustles have a theme of partnering with people and giving people a space to be together.  This is one way Sean reflects who God is.  God loves creating and partnering with people to get the job done.  His vision is big.  He creates us to be in community. ​

My side hustles are less intentional.  I stumble into them more than I intentionally build them.  Take for example, the time my sister and I jokingly dressed up as Elsa and Anna and were promptly hired by the NWWA Fair as entertainment. ​

Long before pastor and author John MacArthur spoke out publicly and disrespectfully to speaker and author, Beth Moore, we have been having conversations around our table about various beliefs within the Christian faith; how should we handle it when other people have different perspectives or even (gasp) different theology?  Can we coexist?  Can we appreciate what the other brings to the table or do we throw it all out because we don’t agree on everything?  Can someone who believes differently be welcome at my table?  Should I trade out the table for a wrestling mat?    ​

At the end of the summer while we had people over, everyone crammed on benches around our kitchen table for what had been close to two hours and a couple pots of coffee, I looked at Sean.  “Our table just isn’t big enough!”  By coffee pot number three I hatched an idea that was practical, cheap, and would heap more work on my husband, which is generally how my ideas work.  “You could build a bigger table for us!” 
“Hmm…I’m not sure how I’ll do it, I’m not sure I have the time to do it…challenge accepted,” which is generally how he responds.

We brought my brand new table into the kitchen the day before Thanksgiving (and no one got high from the fresh stain–a Thanksgiving miracle). 
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The table celebration was especially sweet for me.  There was a time I would have liked to shrink my table to prevent more people from joining.  I was fatigued, tired of opening myself up, wanting my life to be my own.  God was gracious in bringing me away from that mentality and exhaustion.  He first gave me the rest and restoration I needed.  He also brought the conviction I needed, and truly bent my heart toward others in a way that I was completely unable to muster on my own.  He spoke to me about who he created me to be and how to allow my home and kitchen table to reflect it.

The noise of social media, the self promotion and platform building, the strategy behind getting people to hear my voice has shut me down.  I’ve interrogated my desire to be heard, to add my voice as one more gonging cymbal, to build myself up to impress or give me credibility, and I hate the layers I see.

The noise of self promotion, media, and opinions paralyze me.  My grief over the turns in society have made me want to curl up and hide…with my ears plugged…with my brain turned off.  I don’t want to impress anyone as much as I want to put on sackcloth and mourn.  I don’t want to blog.  I don’t want to stir up anything controversial.  I don’t want to speak.  I don’t want any platform where people’s eyes are on me.  The entire thing is exhausting.   

As I war with my motives and the noise, something else rises in me, bringing opposition to my hesitation.  I am compelled to share Hope.  I’m compelled to share that we can live for something bigger than loving ourselves.  I want you to know we are designed for purpose grander than our circumstantial happiness.  I’m compelled to share God’s faithfulness.  I have witnessed it with my own eyes.  I’m compelled to encourage others as they wrestle with Truth, as they implement it in their lives.  God has given me this medium of writing and an ability to speak.  I can’t seem to have peace when I’m running from it.

Simultaneously, it makes me cringe. 

“Lord, don’t you know that writing, speaking and leadership are terrible for my weaknesses!?  Can I even call them strengths when they lead straight to pride; to pedestals that I need to be knocked down from? It takes every ounce of focus and dependance on you to keep the main thing the main thing. I get distracted.  I have my own agenda.  I’m ugly inside while people praise the outside.  Why would I knowingly walk into that?!  You should be compelling me to a vow of silence.”

Right there in the middle of my have-it-out, coming-to-Jesus prayer I heard myself say it, “It takes every ounce of focus and dependance on you…”

I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.  John 15:5

Aw, blast.  That was it, wasn’t it?  I heard myself say it.  I was complaining that writing and speaking would cause me to depend on Jesus.  It would require of me to fix my eyes on God and not divert to the noise, the approval or disapproval, the masses.  The very thing I pray in more rehearsed moments, “Lord, help me to depend on you," was causing me to whine, “But, Lord!  I’ll have to depend on you!”   

I know my own sin.  I’m acquainted with my weakness, which makes me believe that I should soak up truth and study, but keep my mouth shut.  I’ve failed and quite certainly I’ll fail again.  But when I bring my excuses to the Lord, He reminds me who HE is.  He doesn’t remind me who I am…like I said, we’re acquainted with my failures.  He reminds me that He is faithful and good.  “Who said anything about sharing how faithful and good you are, Shilo?  Your aim is to share how faithful and good the Lord is.  Quit making it about you.”

"I am the vine; you are the branches.  If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."  John 15:5.  When my focus and dependance is in Him, He asks me to share...with my voice...regardless of noise, opposition, and temptations swirling outside. 

My exhale is one of relief and freedom.  If I’m on stage, if I’m writing, if I’m proclaiming, it’s not because of who I am.  It’s because of who He is.  The pressure is off and the message is clear.

​​My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:26

I was at a campground north of Spokane, WA outside the dining hall, freshly covered in bug spray.  Various aunts, uncles, cousins, and their small children were playing all over.  A group of them played music in the chapel, a competitive basketball game was underway, and a few of my cousins were chasing their toddlers up and down the hill, with coffee in hand.  Our annual family reunion trips are a big part of kicking off our summer Memorial Day weekend.

I was headed to the chapel and crossed paths with my Aunt Billie.  We squeezed each other tight–a quick hello in passing turned into meaningful conversation instantly, as is inevitable with us.  I asked how she was holding up as she’s been doing a lot of care taking for her parents; my grandparents.  My grandparents live in their own cozy house on shared property with Billie and her family.  The daily care my aunt and uncle, cousins, and extended family offer make it possible for them to live at home much longer than they would’ve been able to otherwise.  We talked a moment about the deteriorating health and memory, the struggle and fatigue of care taking, and also the grief involved.

Then came a pause and the intense look Billie gives that means, “Hear this.  This is important.  Track with me.”  She tilted her head to indicate a story was coming.  “Sometimes I don’t know why they’re still holding on.  I asked my mom if God has told her why she’s still here.  I was wondering what He still has for her."

Fresh out of college, my husband was hired at a new church to get a youth ministry off the ground.  The church was a year old, our marriage was a year old, and we all had more momentum than experience.  We ran like it was a sprint and panted through burn out and fatigue when we realized it was looking more like a marathon.  We made some adjustments and kept going.

We spent a solid 15 years doing some form of vocational ministry.  Nearly two years ago we decided to step away from paid ministry so we could focus on other goals.

I’ve realized many of my take aways haven’t been exclusive to ministry–they apply across the board.  They’ve also been learned the hard way.  I'm writing a few of them here, not because I've mastered them (a work in progress), but because it's important to slow down long enough to acknowledge morsels of wisdom gained along the way.  

1.  If I’m going to lead people, I better know darn well what I’m leading them to.    
"We need to attract the next generation."  "We need unity."  "Let’s build community.”  "Start a movement,"  For what?  What does that even mean?!  Anyone can string together a bunch of buzz words.  What am I leading people to?  WHO am I leading people to?   My primary goal is not to be relevant, cool, deep, or charismatic.  My primary goal is to reflect Christ so people will trust Him, not me.  My goal is to love people; not to impress them.  Our ministry found focus when we stopped fancy sounding mission statements and sought God's heart for loving people.         ​