What I Learned: Summer 2020

June - August

1. Almost all turkeys eaten in the US are the result of artificial insemination.

If you’re thinking, “Wow, I didn’t expect this list to start with turkey sex,” I get it. Me neither. But isn’t this fascinating and also sad? Starting in the 1950s, turkeys were bred for the thickest, juiciest breasts because that is what consumers value most. Now, years and years later, those turkeys are actually physically unable to mate because of the size of their breasts, and so a shocking 100% of commercial turkeys are the result of artificial insemination. (If you want to read more on this, check out Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable Miracle; and if you want to listen to a super short podcast episode about it, check out this one.)

2. I really enjoy training for a half marathon.

Perhaps even more shocking than turkey sex ending up on this list is I’ve found I really enjoy running. There’s something about looking forward to an event and training for it that has brought me a lot of joy. (And I’m sure the endorphins help.) My body feels strong, my skin is glowy, and I’m watching as my times decrease from veryyyy slow to just very slow, with one “y.” Praise God. 

3. Sounds travel farther in damp, humid air. 

If you’ve ever wondered why birds sing the most in the morning, it’s because of the humidity in the morning air. Their songs travel farther because the moisture carries the sound along. I just love this!

4. There was a record-breaking heatwave in London in 1976.

This heatwave was actually the setting for a novel I really enjoyed this summer: Instructions for a Heatwave by Maggie O’Farrell. Who knew? 

5. Modern medicine is one of the ways I believe Jesus is “putting all enemies under his feet.” 

I don’t feel informed enough to have any strong opinions on eschatology (the theological term for studying the End Times), but I do fall into the camp of truly believing Jesus is putting all enemies under his feet (1 Corinthians 15:25) right now. I get squirmy when Christians talk about how the world is going downhill and getting worse and worse, because I see things around us like modern medicine that helps premature babies grow into healthy infants (!) refrigeration that keeps so many people from dying of foodborne illnesses that were commonplace a couple hundred years ago (!) and nonprofits that are working to better the lives of people all around the world and CAN because of technology. The world is far from perfect, but I think satan shook with fear when each of these things happened and he had less of an opportunity to steal, kill, and destroy. (If you want to read some better words on this topic from someone who has truly put in the work of studying it well, check out this blog post.)

6. Lopez Lomong - US Olympian and the flag bearer for the US in the 2012 Olympics - grew up in a refugee camp after escaping the killing fields of Sudan.

I read Lopez Lomong’s stunning memoir Running for My Life this summer and his life story is just incredible. It’s sad and hard to read, and hopeful and beautiful and inspiring. Lopez Lomong is a believer and beautifully traced the hand of God working through some really difficult circumstances in his life. 

7. The right book makes all the difference. (Subheading: I miss the Olympics.)

When I started listening to the book The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown, I knew exactly nothing about the men's rowing team in the 1936 Berlin Olympics...and I didn't really have a great desire to learn. This book came highly recommended by a friend/my personal book whisperer, so I decided to trust her and man-oh-man was it delightful. I can't recommend it highly enough. The story is incredible and the way it's told is just magnificent. 

8. I prefer the term “physical distancing” over the term “social distancing.” 

I’m not sure why it felt like such a big deal to me to hear the term “physical distancing” instead of “social distancing” when my family and I visited Disney World this summer. It may have something to do with the way “social distancing” feels like it’s subconsciously trying to tell you that being social is bad or wrong somehow. Or it may have to do with the way “physical distancing” is a more correct way of saying what you mean - you don’t need social space between you and other human beings, you need physical space, physical feet of space, and you can be as social as you like from that distance. Regardless, “physical distancing” feels kinder and more accurate to me, and I wish it was the norm everywhere. 

9. The times when I am least likely to display the Fruit of the Spirit to the people around me are when I feel busy or hurried.

I haven’t quite finished The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer, but if this is the only takeaway it was a worthwhile read. I am least likely to be patient, kind, joyful, peaceful, and loving when I feel rushed and busy. (Example: when I’m running late for something and Abbie kicks off her shoes for the twelfth time, I’m less likely to respond with patience than if I wasn’t feeling rushed.) It makes sense that I would notice that and reorder my life in such a way that I’m better able to love the people around me by, as John Mark Comer would say, ruthlessly eliminating hurry. 

10. Community is such a gift. 

Late this summer, I started gathering with a small group of women on Monday afternoons and it has been such a gift to me. We talk about Jesus’s work in our lives, pray for each other, laugh, and we’re often sent home with beautiful flowers (thank you Shyla!) I had been longing for this kind of community since my time at Liberty and I’m just so grateful for this gift from the Lord!

Photo from my dear friend Shyla’s Evening in the Garden Workshop

Divine Reading (Lectio Divina)

Originally published at Horizons Resources

For most of my life I have viewed a wide reading of Scripture as the best way to engage the Word of God. Whether that view was intentionally held or not, I failed many Bible-In-A-Year plans trying to attain the extra holiness in store for people who take in a lot of the Bible every day. 

Around this time last year, I was introduced to a new-to-me way of engaging with Scripture called Lectio Divina. Latin for “divine reading,” Lectio Divina is a series of movements to help the reader engage a passage in a deeper way. This is a practice of slow, meaningful reading and re-reading of a very small portion of Scripture, usually only a few verses. It’s asking questions and silently listening for their answers. It’s allowing the Spirit time and space to move in our hearts. 

While there’s certainly nothing wrong with reading large passages of Scripture each day or reading the Bible in a year (many people I love dearly, including my husband, do this and really benefit from it), Lectio Divina is something I’ve found to be another tool in my arsenal, another spiritual exercise if you will, something to be used to increase my enjoyment of God as I read his word. In the same way our bodies become stronger as we exercise them in different ways, so can our hearts and minds as we engage scripture in different ways. 

Building muscles - both physical and spiritual - is complementary in ways we often aren’t even aware of. For example, a person who does only bicep curls will soon plateau unless he also exercises other parts of the body. By adding other exercises to his routine - planks, squats, cardio - he can begin to improve again. The strength gained in his core by doing planks can help him lift heavier weights with his arms because his body is more stabilized. 

The same is true of our spiritual muscles. After practicing Lectio Divina, my day-to-day readings of larger passages of scripture take on a new depth, and I’m more apt to take note of words or phrases the Holy Spirit brings to mind as I’m reading. In the same way, reading more broadly gives my practice of Lectio Divina a fuller shape as I understand the context of a passage better and how that passage fits into the larger narrative of the Bible as a whole. Each spiritual “exercise” benefits the other. (Continue reading at horizonsresources.net…)

Praying the Psalms

This piece was originally published at HorizonsResources.net

I find it hard to pray. This is an uncomfortable confession because, by all external standards, prayer should be easy for me by now. I grew up in a Christian home surrounded by family members who prayed and encouraged me to pray. I have been part of a church since my earliest memories, listening and learning from pastors and teachers who prayed confidently. I have read books about prayer, attended conferences, taken college courses focused on studying the Bible, and listened to countless sermons. I have all the credentials of someone who should be, at the very least, adequate at prayer. And yet it is the single most difficult and frustrating aspect of my relationship with God.

It hasn't always been this way. There have been seasons of my life, sweet and wonderful seasons, where prayer felt like an easy discipline. I would sit down to pray and find a few minutes had turned into a few hours and my notebook pages were full of my communication with God. There were times when prayer felt more urgent, but the discipline still felt natural, such as when a family member was battling cancer or my dad was in a serious car accident.

These seasons are not the norm for me, so prayer has most often felt difficult and awkward. As often as prayer is difficult, I feel like I should be better at it. I should be enjoying prayer more. I should come to prayer in awe that I can approach God at all rather than seeing prayer as a chore. I should have more to say because of what a gift it is to be able to say anything and know that I am heard and seen and loved by the Father.

Perhaps I am the only one who struggles like this. It has certainly felt that way in the past as people have shared with me how sweet their time with the Lord is. Prayer has seemed liked an inside joke I’d never understand, like something only an exclusive group of people ever fully experienced. I just didn’t get it.

Continue reading…