Ever since I moved to the Chicago area for school, people always ask if Ike and I will move back to North Carolina when we graduate. Although I don’t know the answer to that question with any real certainty, I tend to give an optimistic response. Ideally, we would like to head back to North Carolina, or at least somewhere south. As our family expands, we want to be as close as we can to our parents.

Of course, my desire to head south is about more than our growing brood. Ever since we left NC I have longed for home. I am constantly looking forward to our trips home for Christmas and the summer. Especially during this time of year when the weather is….less than great. Right now, the longing for home is almost always with me.

However, anyone who has ever moved away from home knows that a funny thing happens when you return. It doesn’t feel quite the same because you don’t live there anymore. You don’t have your own space and things have changed while you were gone. It’s never quite like you remember it being.

Whenever Ike and I go home now, I experience a strange and troublesome sense of disorientation. It’s almost as if I no longer have a home anymore. I don’t live in North Carolina, but I don’t feel like Illinois is my home either.

This weekend I am attending a women’s retreat for my church, and one of the retreat speakers was able to articulate this strange disorientation in a way that I never have before. She moved here from South Africa to work at Willow Creek, and the first 3 years were nearly excruciating for her. She missed her family so much that she cried almost every day. She yearned to go home and be with her family. For years she carried that ache with her wherever she went.

Finally she was able to travel home and spend time with her family, but she noticed something surprising. The ache was still there. She was home with her mom eating home-cooked food–all that she had longed for–but the ache persisted. Why?

As she reflected on it, she realized that the ache was not, ultimately, about her earthly home. What her heart was yearning for, on a deep spiritual level, was the kind of home that we only taste in brief moments on earth. We snatch slivers of it here and there–in time with our family and friends, in the watching of a sunset or the hearing of sweet music–but the sensation is always fleeting. It never lasts.

That ache or that longing you feel, whatever its source, will never be fully satisfied this side of eternity. Nothing on earth is capable of soothing it completely, but we shouldn’t despair. The ache is painful, but it is also sacred.

That aching and longing we feel for something just outside our grasp is a reminder. It reminds us that we are not home yet; we were created for another world.

In a culture that values satisfaction and instant gratification, this is a radical idea. Even among Christians, we are taught that our faith is about personal fulfillment. We don’t embrace discomfort anymore than the rest of the world. And yet we need that sacred ache. Comfort numbs but yearning motivates. It motivates us to seek after the source of our longing. And that is why the ache is sacred.

I am so grateful for the speaker’s reflections. I am looking forward to the rest of this weekend and I’m sure I will have more nuggets of insight to share! Until then, what is your ache? And as you examine that ache, what eternal yearning is behind it?

As you probably know, tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, which marks the start of the Lenten season. Whenever this season rolls around I always make time to consider how I will observe Lent, but this year has been a bit different. I have also spent an unusual amount of time reflecting on how I observed Lent last year.

If you’re one of my newer readers, last year I observed Lent by fasting from blogging. You can check out my explanation for that decision here, which probably conveys what a big deal it was for me. Any bloggers knows that the fastest way to lose your readership is to blog sporadically. But I knew it was the right decision. I needed to place my writing before the throne of God and recalibrate my motives.

And it did just that.

At first, the fast was difficult. I worried about my blog traffic (though I also refused to look at my stats). I hated the fact that I was not producing more material and that I wasn’t building my platform. And of course those were the very reasons I needed to fast from blogging. Clearly, those are not godly reasons for having a writing ministry. Those motives are human-driven at their core.

Over time, the fast became easier as I was liberated from the need to serve my own glory. Slowly, I remembered on a deep heart level why it was that I began writing in the first place. Writing was no longer an insatiable master, but a servant to the true Master. As writing assumed its correct priority in my life, I experienced freedom.

The fruits of that 40 day fast have stayed with me. I even considered repeating that fast for Lent this year. The lessons I learned and the spiritual habits I formed during those 40 days have endured, and I am so grateful that God called me to make that sacrifice. I received much more than I surrendered.

That experience changed the way I now think about Lent and the practice of fasting. Although Lent is often the excuse people use to test drive a new diet or make good on their New Year’s resolution, that is not its purpose.

Lent is a time when we prepare for Holy Week by meditating on our fragility before God and our desperate need for a Savior. It is a time when we remember why Jesus had to die. During Lent, we surrender an idol that has assumed improper centrality in our lives, and then we watch as our souls shrink and groan when that idol is taken away. We understand with new clarity that our hearts are indeed “idol factories,” and that we would be hopelessly self-destructive and broken had Christ not intervened.

But the Lenten season and the practice of fasting give us more than mere clarity. Fasting also leads to greater intimacy with God. As we purge those idols from our lives, those saviors that we depend on more than God, we return to our First Love.

With the Lenten season beginning tomorrow, I hope you will give some thought to fasting. What idol do you need to sacrifice at the altar of God’s throne, and what type of fast will help you to make that sacrifice?

As I wrote about for Her.meneutics last week, I’ve realized that control is a major spiritual issue for me that has become especially salient with my pregnancy. I am still not sure what type of fast would help me to address this problem, but hopefully God will give me some insight. I don’t want my control addiction standing in between me and intimacy with God, so I am eager to explore the depths of this sin as I prepare for Easter. We’ll see what God has in store.

This week I had the privilege of hearing from the Executive Director of the Center for Bioethics and Human Dignity at Trinity. She provided an introduction to the Center, as well as a brief look at the major issues confronting bioethics today.

Many of the bioethical questions of our time do not have clear-cut answers, so she offered some guiding principles for thinking through them in a constructive and Christian way. Of the suggestions she made, I found one to be especially insightful. When it comes to the bioethical issues in our own lives, she encouraged us to begin with the following question:

Who owns your body?

Although the realm of bioethics extends far beyond the sphere of your individual body, I think this is a wonderful place to start. So many of the bioethical dilemmas facing Christians  begin with an inadequate understanding of our own bodies and what God created us for.

Of course, the Bible is very clear about who owns our bodies. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 tells us,

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.

Who owns your body? Your Savior does.

This truth can serve as a North Star as we wade through the muddy waters of bioethics. For example, when it comes to matters concerning birth control, IVF, and surrogacy, the question of who owns our bodies demands our attention. No matter where you come down on these issues, it is crucial that you first consider that your body is not your own.

For evangelicals in particular, this is an important step. While the Catholic Church has a coherent position on bioethics, evangelicals do not. We allow for more freedom on these questions, but this freedom is not always theologically reasoned. In fact, many evangelicals exhibit tremendous theological inconsistency on the issues of bioethics.

Take, for instance, the passion with which evangelicals oppose abortion. This opposition is so strong that many evangelicals are “one issue” voters who believe abortion to be more important than just about any other. It is a major part of the evangelical DNA. And yet, as loudly and dogmatically as evangelical women condemn the practice of abortion and have no qualms about telling other women what to do with their bodies, many refuse to be told what to do with their own bodies. When one dares to broach the topics of birth control or IVF, one is met with intense defensiveness. You are likely to hear something along the lines of, “It’s none of your business” or “This was my personal decision.”

While I don’t believe there are easy answers to a lot of these questions, nor am I advocating for a particular position here, what disturbs me is the attitude and worldview fueling these responses. Quite frankly, your body IS the business of your church community, and what you choose to do with your body is NOT a personal decision. Not only is it first and foremost under the jurisdiction of God, but what you do with your body impacts your entire community. It’s not just about you.

All of that to say, we have GOT to get to a place of bioethical and theological coherency when it comes to our bodies, and I think that asking “Who owns your body?” is a great place to begin. In fact, it is a helpful guiding principle in the face of many topics, such as sexuality, how we dress, and how we choose to spend our time.

For now, I ask you to consider this question with all the seriousness that Christ’s sacrifice deserves. I’m not going to tell you whether birth control or IVF  is right or wrong (if you want to read my engagements on these topics, you can find them elsewhere on this blog), but I do want you to think through these complex issues from the perspective of stewardship, not personal ownership. I want you to give it the time, attention, study, and theological engagement it requires. It is the way of the world to claim complete and total autonomy over our bodies. But we are not of the world.

Opening Note: I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but this is NOT a Valentine’s Day post. Not even close. BUT, this topic has been on my mind a lot lately, so I hope it will speak to the people who need it today!

Anyone who has had even the tiniest smidgen of counseling training has probably been told that there’s no wrong way to grieve. Whether you or someone you know has endured a loss, everyone has a different response and none is necessarily better than another.

I think there is a lot of truth to that. The journey of grief is slightly unique for every person, a truth that gives us patience with loved ones who are grieving. It encourages us to give them space to be, even when we don’t understand their behavior, and I can affirm that principle.

However, the fact that there is no wrong way to grieve does not mean there is no wrong way to heal.

To explain what I mean, let me tell you about a friend of mine who suffered a sports injury as a kid. He fractured his arm but his dad thought it was a sprain, so he never sought proper medical attention. Eventually the arm healed but it healed incorrectly. As a result, my friend cannot straighten his arm all the way, and he has a limited range of motion in his hand.

What is interesting about this particular story is that my friend is a fantastic athlete. Even with this handicap, he was an excellent baseball player. He simply learned to work around the injury.

The more I think about it, the more I find this story to be a helpful analogy for emotional healing. When it comes to healing, the human heart is much like the rest of the human body–it can heal, but it will heal incorrectly if not attended to in the right way.

What does incorrect healing look like? It is the kind of healing that enables us to move past the pain, to live a full life and even continue to love, but in ways that are marked by woundedness. It is the woman who hardens her heart to her dad so that he cannot hurt her anymore, but carries that hard shell into other relationships. It is the man who loses a loved one and, by all appearances is coping well, but lives in the quiet fear of future loss and compensates by over-controlling. It is the friend who suffers a relational betrayal and willingly extends forgiveness, yet struggles to trust people the way she did before.

We tend to call this “baggage,” but I wonder if these behaviors are also symptoms of a heart that healed the wrong way. After all, my friend was still able to use his arm to play sports and he was quite good! His injury did not cost him the use of his arm anymore than emotional pain costs us the use of our hearts. We can function effectively in this world and love people well, but to do so might also require compensating for an emotional handicap of a wound that never healed quite the right way.

What, then, does right healing look like?

In the same way that a broken arm requires the expertise of a doctor–one who knows and understands the arm’s design and can set it back accordingly–we need our Heavenly Physician to do the same for our hearts. God created us and God alone knows how to set our hearts aright, so the right kind of healing begins with Him.

Revelation 21:5 tells us, “And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new.’” Likewise, Colossians 3:10 explains that in Christ we put on a “new self” which is “being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator.” The Bible contains many similar passages that all communicate this message of continual renewal. God is pruning the sin out of our lives and conforming us to his image, and that spiritual healing is a prototype for all healing in our lives.

Whenever we face a difficult time, we can and must turn to God for comfort, but it is also a time when God does a constructive work in us. That said, we can either choose to hide from the pain and distract ourselves as life eventually moves on, or we can choose to participate in the work that God is doing. We can embrace the breaking apart and rebuilding.

What does this look like practically?

As strange and difficult as it may seem, I think the best kind of healing comes from acknowledging our frailty before God and even taking responsibility for our own sinfulness. When you are ready, identify those areas of your life that need the re-shaping and refining hand of God so that He can mend them. In the case of betrayal, for instance, the call to forgive is always accompanied by the call to examine our own need of forgiveness and mercy.

By way of this perspective, we can welcome renewal as a friend rather than hiding from it as an enemy.

In the midst of pain and suffering, the last thing we want to do is examine ourselves or take responsibility for our short-comings before God. But I think this is an essential part of the spiritual renewal that the Bible describes. It is also essential to our identities. It is the difference between embracing an identity and a life marked by woundedness, or one defined by Christ-enabled agency and overcoming.

That is not to say that healing is immediate, or that you have somehow failed because you continue to carry the baggage of a past wound. The healing of God is always present and always hopeful. Because God’s grace is new every morning, we have the opportunity to embrace the healing of grace each and every day.

So on this Valentine’s Day, a day about hearts and love, I hope you will assess the state of our own heart. Is there some area of your heart that has healed incorrectly and continues to handicap you emotionally? If so, run to God, and let Him renew you!

I know that today’s title is provocative, but I didn’t choose it for the purpose of provoking. Instead, I chose to address this question because it is one that some Christian women genuinely ask. In fact, a few feminist theologians have gone so far as to ask the far more provocative question:

Can a male savior save women?

From some of you, this latter question immediately seems absurd. To give you a little backdrop on its origins, the question is a response to the patriarchal perversions of Christianity and the sinful distortions by which Scripture has wrongly been used to hurt and oppress women. Some feminist theologians believe that these evils are the natural end of a male-dominated religion. And from such a perspective, it is difficult for some women (and men) to conceive of how a patriarchal religion could possibly be liberating for women.

I will leave the nuances of Christianity and patriarchy for another day. Today, I want to engage one aspect of the title question, an aspect that is relevant to all women, feminist or not.

Hebrews 4:15 tells us, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” Likewise, church theologians have historically affirmed the fullness of Jesus’ humanity and the representative nature of his human experience. In St. Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo (Why God Became Man) he famously wrote of the debt that humanity alone owed but God alone could pay.

Inherent in both Scriptural and traditional statements about Christ’s humanity is the belief that Jesus was fully human and fully able to represent us in our own humanity.

And yet, Jesus’ human experience was not like that of many humans. For one thing, he never married, a distinction that separates his human experience from a large bulk of the earth’s population. But even more importantly, Jesus was a man. He never had the experience of being a woman.

Now the issue of Jesus’ gender is not important from the standpoint of salvation. Men and women alike are made in God’s image and have the same fallen natures. There is a commonality to being human that transcends gender, so it is not theologically problematic that Jesus can represent humanity.

For me, the more relevant question is that of relationship, of being known. When Jesus was on earth, did he really get women in the way that he got men?

The short answer to that question is yes. Jesus did understand women on the most personal level because he created us. Jesus knows each one of us intimately because he was there at our conception and he knit us together. He knew who we would be and where our lives would take us.

But over the last three months I have learned an additional way in which woman can relate to Jesus, in a uniquely female way.

After I became pregnant and began to experience the symptoms of first trimester sickness, my body’s changes came as quite as shock. As someone who has had NO major health issues my entire life, it was rather jarring to experience such extended nausea and fatigue. My body has always done what I wanted it to (except in the realm of athletics!) so these three months have represented a loss of control that I have not readily embraced.

This pregnancy has taught me, in a way that I did not understand before, that bringing new life into this world entails the laying down of my own body. To create new life, I must sacrifice my own comfort and well-being. But out of that sacrifice springs forth a new body and a new soul.

In this way, pregnancy is a beautiful analogy of Christ’s sacrifice. Though the pains of pregnancy and labor are nothing compared to the pains of crucifixion, it is nevertheless one of the closest pictures we have of what happened on the cross. In both instances, a physical body suffers in order that a new birth can occur. While there are plenty of other ways in which Christians can model this analogy (ie. laying ourselves down in sacrificial ways to bring about the salvation of others), it is rare that one’s physical sacrifice literally breeds new life.

Now, I don’t think that mothers have a monopoly on understanding the sacrifice of Christ anymore than married people have a monopoly on understanding Christ’s relationship to the church. However, I do think this is one area of womanhood in which we have a unique connection to Jesus. As I continue to endure the hardships of pregnancy, I can hear divine echoes amidst the illness. When I feel tired and cranky or nauseous, I can remember the sacrifices that Christ made to give me new life. As I experience my morning sickness and fatigue, I get to participate in a faint reflection of the same life-giving sacrifice modeled by Christ, all the while praying that my sacrifice leads not only to a new child, but one day a child of God as well.

Hello friends, today is a very special day! I am so excited to finally be sharing the wonderful news that in mid-August 2012, Ike and I will be expanding our family by ONE!

That’s right,

I’m pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am currently 12 weeks along which means the end of the first trimester is in sight! Hip hip hooray! As far as morning sickness goes, I have been more fortunate than a lot of women but that hasn’t stopped me from being a big wimp about the nausea and fatigue!

(Related note: say a prayer for my classmates who have been the unfortunate casualties of my exhausted crankiness. At the end of each school day when I just wanna go home and sleep and everything makes me grumpy, I need extra patience from them!)

For those of you who are interested, this baby was not a surprise. I know some of you are curious because Ike and I have been practicing Natural Family Planning throughout the entire course of our marriage, and we still love it! In fact, it helped us to get pregnant very quickly, which was an added benefit.

Some of you might also be curious about what this means for my PhD. For the last year I really agonized over honoring my calling to be a student but wanting to start a family, and after much prayer and conversation Ike and I decided to take the plunge. I know it will be challenging to manage school and family (again, your prayers are SO welcome!) but I am blessed to have the full support of my husband and my parents (let’s be honest, my mom doesn’t need an excuse to fly up here and dote on her grandchild!). It’s going to be an adventure, but I have a feeling I will come to value my family even more than I already do as we walk through these next few years together.

Finally, I am so thrilled to be sharing this news because God has been teaching me SO much through this pregnancy. We learned I was pregnant a couple weeks before Christmas, so I had an entirely new perspective on Mary and her pregnancy as I prepared my heart for the season. I have also been reflecting a lot on what it means to lay yourself down to bring new life into the world, which has given me a new understanding of Jesus’ sacrifice for us. But those are topics for another day. Just know that I will be writing more pregnancy inspired blogs in the months to come!

Wahoooo!!!!!!