Life, Doctrine and Women's Ministry

Whether through books, Bible studies, retreats, or conferences, a central focus of women’s ministry has been on the practical dimensions of Christian living, either presupposing the theological understanding of the audience—which isn’t always wrong to do—or simply neglecting to ground the practical in a richer theological framework.

Of course, I’m not suggesting we aren’t teaching women Scripture, but in the rush to fill in the blanks, we aren’t teaching women to handle the Word as theologians. Some women’s ministry leaders have made statements that undermine the process of doing theology, suggesting that because knowing theology is not provisional for salvation that somehow it lacks practical value. We are good at teaching principles and precepts from the Word, but are we communicating interdependence between life and doctrine? Is there a place of theological education in the context of women’s ministry?

“Life and doctrine are interdependent.” These are the words of John Frame who serves as the chair of Systematic Theology and Philosophy at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando. From his book, The Doctrine of the Christian Life, he argues for a more integrated understanding of the practical and the theoretical, suggesting that one cannot exist without the other. He writes: “The Greek terms based on didasko typically refer in the Pastoral Epistles to a teaching of the word of God that leads to spiritual health. This is ‘sound’ or ‘healthy’ teaching. So doctrine, defined as this kind of teaching, also has an ethical goal. It is not given to us merely for intellectual contemplation.”

Life and doctrine were never intended to be separated and any attempt to teach about the day to day Christian life without Christian doctrine provides for a limited or empty experience. By ethical, Frame is referencing the ongoing process of sanctification of becoming more conformed to the image of God.

Granted, the “ivory towers” of academia have given at least the perception that the theoretical has no real relationship with the daily struggles of everyday people, but the content and tapestry of our worldview plays an extremely relevant role to how we live. This means that what we believe (or don’t believe) directly impacts our daily lives. As Christian women who are able to spend time together in small groups, Bible studies, retreats, and conferences, a more concentrated focus needs to be devoted to teaching women to own the content of their faith so that they are equipped to apply the eternal truths of Scripture to their lives on their own.

Journeys into Leadership

The other weekend I ran into a guy (literally) who had stopped short to turn around as we followed the masses out of a church sanctuary. “Sorry,” he said, looking disheartened and eying the crowd. “I was supposed to have a group following me.”

“No problem,” I laughed. “’Nobody behind me’ is the story of my life…..”

And it really is. I can’t tell you the number of times in my life as a leader, I’ve look around—amazed—that for once people actually sometimes follow me. Because it certainly wasn’t always the case.

Growing up, I was never the kid who always had some great thing going, the girl everyone looked to to start the fun. Instead, I was the sort to shyly suggest a game or activity and have everyone go, “Nah…. Let’s play this instead!” I wasn’t on student council in high school, and I was not the social go-to person. And in college, I sort of dug into my studies (and—okay—a bit of socializing) and didn’t lead anything.

The only inklings I had through much of my early life that I might have some sort of leader-like gifts were when I would write. Apparently, I always had a knack for “persuasive” writing—and was on more than one occasion deemed a “thought leader” by teachers and professors. Not bad, but certainly not the same as a leader leader. At least not in my mind.

But when I entered the workforce something changed. I suppose because I was in a profession—magazine editing—where the thought leaders WERE the leader leaders that suddenly people began to call out and encourage my leadership gifts. I was passed batons—if you will—as others moved up and onward, and people began to look to me as a leader. Suddenly, I’d suggest something and instead of “Nah….” I’d get a “Great!” or at least a “Not bad, but what if we….”

As others affirmed my gifts, it opened my eyes and my heart to other ways I felt the Spirit prompting to use my “new found” gifts: in ministry, in community, in my family. Today, I don’t hesitate to call myself a leader—even though sometimes it still shocks me. That a shy girl who preferred hiding behind words could grow up to lead amazes me. Especially when I end up with a group following me.

Sorry if I’ve rambled, but this little walk down “Journey into Leadership” Lane (that I first did after I passed the guy I bumped in to) has sparked a couple different desires. The first is for us women leaders—especially those of us in ministry—to call each other out in our gifts and to affirm abundantly the gifts we see at work in others. Because so often leaders are gifted in ways that might not fit perfectly the image of a leader leader.

And also it’s increased my desire to hear YOUR journeys in leadership. I think we all ought to spend time sharing how God brought us into the places where we are now—leading, learning to lead, or maybe waiting to lead.

And actually, this is something I’d love to hear about from you all now! What’s your journey into leadership? How’d you get where you are? Where do you sense God calling you next?

The High Cost of Cheap

I love a bargain. Whether I’m buying clothing, groceries, or other supplies, I enjoy knowing I got a deal. I can even dress it up in spiritual clothes, claiming I’m being a “good steward” of my resources by being thrifty.

Unfortunately, cheap sometimes has a hidden price tag. The prices of certain goods—from soccer balls to candy bars—are low because the people who produce them are paid little or nothing for their labor. The laborers in sweatshops and harvesters on plantations pay a dear price so that we can have, by our own admission, too much food and too much stuff.

I love bargains, but I also want to live a compassionate life—and lead others to do the same. To do so, I must look beyond the price tag on an item to its hidden price.

More people are trapped in slavery today than at the height of the slave trade of the 1800s. Most are virtually invisible. Many are children. The Bible is very clear: if I am saving money by exploiting the poor (which I am doing if I buy products made with slave labor), that is exactly the opposite of good stewardship.

For example, most of the world’s chocolate is made on plantations in Africa, especially the Ivory Coast, where there are more than 100,000 child slaves working on cocoa plantations. The cocoa beans are harvested by hand, usually by young children—children who have never even tasted chocolate. These children are denied an education, and sometimes beaten or not fed if they do not meet their harvest quotas. Many are lured with the promise a paying job, but they end up enslaved. Their lives are the price of cheap chocolate. (Learn more at www.slavefreechocolate.org .)

We might throw up our hands at the injustice, but think there is nothing we can do, or that the problem is too huge. Such thinking is truly ignoring the plight of the poor, trading our comfort for theirs.

Centuries ago, God told his people: “For three sins of Israel, even for four, I will not turn back my wrath. They sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals. They trample on the heads of the poor as upon the dust of the ground and deny justice to the oppressed.”

Does God still care about how our way of life, our insatiable use of resources, denies justice to the oppressed? Of course he does. He cares about the high cost of cheap.

The Bible says, “Blessed are they who maintain justice, who constantly do what is right.” Do our buying patterns maintain justice, or do they perpetuate injustice (even if we are unaware of it)?

There is a human cost to cheap chocolate. And the question is, are we willing to support child slavery in order to have the privilege of inexpensive candy?
There is a great alternative, though. Fair Trade certified products, including chocolate, are produced via a system that pays workers fairly, cuts out middlemen, and protects the environment.

Buying Fair Trade chocolate ensures decent living wages for workers, and that children will not be exploited. That they will get an education, rather than being forced to work in the fields. While it is a bit more expensive than other chocolate, the price reflects the fact that a living wage is paid to the workers who harvest it. It’s also a higher quality product.

There are a number of great websites that sell Fair Trade chocolate, coffee, clothing, jewelry and more—such as www.serrv.org or www.globalexchange.org. They have a special program going for Halloween where you can handout out Fair Trade chocolate through “reverse trick-or-treating.”

I’ve also found Fair Trade food at places like Whole Foods and Target. Ask for it where you shop. Let stores know that you will buy Fair Trade if they stock it. And contact candy companies to let them know you object to their business practices.

Halloween and Christmas are coming—times when we buy candy and gifts. Why not lead a ministry of giving Fair Trade chocolate to trick-or-treaters, or put Fair Trade trinkets in Christmas stockings?

In Isaiah 58:6, God tells his people: “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?”

You can either loosen the chains of injustice, or pull them tighter by simply ignoring the situation.

Women: Mission Critical

Each of us wants to believe that we matter. That we have something to offer. That our contributions to building God’s kingdom are needed and valuable.

But as I travel the world speaking to women in ministry, I have found a substantial obstacle to seeing that happen. One might think the biggest barrier would be convincing men that women are needed for this assignment, but that’s not the most difficult challenge.

A greater challenge seems to be opening the eyes of women to see that we are mission critical. That the task of Kingdom building will not happen unless every daughter of God is prepared and equipped and given opportunity to make her best contribution to the mission at each season of her life.

That certainly fits with God’s view of us. Ephesians 2:10 assures us that we are God’s workmanship and we are created for specific good works. He made each of us uniquely who we are, to be equipped to make the unique contribution that he has prepared for us. I am the only one created for the works God has for me. You are the only one formed for the purposes God has for you. Each of us is truly critical to God’s mission in this world. What a hopeful vision!

Key to that contribution is the growing discovery of who we are—the workmanship God has wrought in us. We work and serve and find out there are some things we are good at—and others we are not so good at. We take faith risks and grow and develop in our gifts and abilities. Hopefully, then, we increasingly serve our Lord with those gifts, accomplishing the good works he has prepared for us.

Because the task is so vast and needs are so great, we often seem to just fill in and get the job done. And that is sometimes necessary. But each entity, body and church within the Body of Christ will be far more effective and fruitful, and people will be far more assured of their value, when each person is consistently operating out of giftedness and strength. This is especially needful and challenging for women because of the great variation in cultural expectations, seasons of life and developmental opportunities.

A second need, if we are to see God’s mission on earth accomplished, is for God’s sons and his daughters to understand that the job will not get done without the contribution of women. We readily acknowledge that we are the primary ones who will win and disciple children and other women. If God’s daughters are not empowered to live out their faith, millions of women and children will not be reached.

But there is more. Throughout Scripture we see that our God practices good stewardship. He tells us there is accountability for our use of what is entrusted to us. Jesus even gathered the leftovers after feeding the 5,000. So surely that same accountability applies to all the resources God has given us for fulfilling his great commission. He has given us finances, tools, training—and most importantly, people—human resources.

More than half of followers of Jesus are female. Half of our human resources are women. Surely our Lord has no intention of allowing us to waste that important resource! He has given us—together--all we need to do the job. But every time we do not equip and empower a woman to make her vital contribution, we are wasting what God has provided. We are settling for less than could be. Fewer men and women will be in the Kingdom because part of the work did not get done.

Women are mission critical. You are critical to God’s mission! We will never accomplish what God assigned to us as his children unless all his children—sons and daughters—are making the contributions for which he created them.

For more on men, women, and the Kingdom of God, join Judy at GFL's Synergy Conference this March in Orlando!

Electronic Anonymity

Have you ever tried to navigate a sticky relationship via computer? Perhaps a disagreement with a friend or a dicey situation at work? You sit down, the desk chair creaks a bit, your fingers start flying. At first you type out of fear or with a good streak of indignation. The keys are clicking fast and hard. You stop, re-read it. Too harsh. Backspace, backspace, backspace. Start again.

Having this conversation face-to-face has definitely crossed your mind. Perhaps face-to-face is an impossible option due to time or distance. Or maybe it is simply easier not to have to look this particular person in the eyes. Either way, you find yourself in a moment of challenging communication. Two computer screens, cyberspace, and a chasm that opens you up to the vast canyons of misinterpretation standing between you and another person.

In our world of electronic anonymity, where screen names, nicknames, and protected passwords can hide our identities, disagreement and engagement that shows value for others and integrity has become increasingly hard to come by. Whether inside the church or out, behind the shield of a laptop we are engaging one another in new and increasingly painful ways.

“If I just e-mail her I can get this off my plate quickly.”

“Does her brief response mean she is upset with me or just short on time?”

“If I just send a message she won’t know how frustrated I really am.”

“Is she too upset to engage with me or did my message end up in her Spam folder?”

A leadership team at my church recently came to the brink of collapsing. Different agendas, leadership styles, and personalities set a few well-meaning women against one another. The situation itself was precarious and fragile. It became explosive when the tension went electronic.
In an attempt to rescue an already over-worked team from the burden of meetings, this group agreed to use e-mail as the primary form of communication. But it instantly became elusive.

Comments typed with joy were received in anger. Black words on a white screen were void of facial expressions. Exclamation points followed by the internet smile :) did little to assuage feelings of insecurity or fear the same way as a warm hug. And was this team not up for the challenge of facing the issues and limiting their e-mails in exchange for personal, the entire ministry they represent could easily have slipped into a cyber abyss.

Jesus clearly lays out a journey with others that is lived in the light. Scripture is filled with God’s invitation to do life openly and honestly, to let that which is fearful and dark be known. Let that which hinders growth and knowledge be cast off. This is not to over-spiritualize e-mail, but it is a reminder that even the simplest bits of communication can end up crouching in dark, faceless places in our hearts.

I have many friends who admit (and I admit as well), to using e-mail as a way to shy away from confrontation. You know the way it goes “I was going to call you, but it is late, so I thought I would just e-mail instead . . . .” Translation: “This is hard for me and not having to look you in the eyes makes it easier.” “I’ll just hide out in the dark here for a bit.”

So how can we embrace our electronic culture by using the time-saving and social networking opportunities it provides, but keeping integrity and strength of purpose along the way? Here are a few simple thoughts:

1. Wait 24 hours. Before engaging with a relational issue via e-mail, wait a day to think, pray, and reflect on the situation. You will likely feel differently about the immediate issue if you give yourself a day to think and ask for insight from other sources.

2.Never reply out of anger. Do your best to release feelings of anger or frustration before you respond. If you are deeply wounded, e-mail is probably not your best avenue for communication. Making the phone call or scheduling the meeting is essential if your pain or anger is deep. It is also the more difficult path, but it is the one that most honors the process and highlights hope for reconciliation.

3. Make time to just talk. Do your best to create buffers in your schedule where you can connect with others in person. This may mean scheduling your meetings farther apart or lingering a bit longer during a soccer game or school drop off. If you create space to talk with people in person, the amount of relational work you do via e-mail can diminish.

4. Always sign your name and if you feel comfortable, provide contact information for follow up. A screen name can hide our identities. Sometimes this is desired, but when it comes to personal communication and confrontation, Skaterbabe4God is too ambiguous. Signing off with your name and contact information is an integrity filled way to end or open the door to continue a conversation.

Taking the time to think through the dynamics of electronic communication will honor the people and relationships in your life the way God honors them. Honestly, openly, and in a way that gives life to the community rather than the second guesses and fear that can land in our inbox.

Shepherd Lessons

In researching for Scouting the Divine: My Search for God in Wine, Wool, & Wild Honey, I spent time with a shepherdess named Lynne in Oregon. During my time in wet fields among the flock, I opened the Scriptures and asked Lynne how she read particularly passages not as a theologian but in light of taking care of her flock. Her answers changed the way I read and understand Scripture—bringing new depth and richness.

Yet some of the greatest lessons I learned simply came from being with Lynne and her sheep. One of which was simply hearing Lynne’s story of becoming a shepherd. Nearly twenty years ago, she purchased her first three sheep sight unseen. All of them were pregnant, and she had no idea what to do, yet she managed to figure it out. As the years passed, the flock naturally grew and she developed new skills along the way.

At one point Lynne said to me, “Margaret, it’s interesting being a shepherd, because a bunch of years go by and you end up being 65 years old and having a lot of young shepherds calling and asking, ‘What do I do?’ And you wake up one morning and realize you’re a shepherd of shepherds.”

When she said those words I recognized the parallel between shepherding and taking on a leadership role. No matter your title, on some level you learn how to lead by jumping in and doing what needs to be done. Formal training is great for learning management, theology and basic leadership skills, but some things you just have to learn by doing. And I think that’s encouraging for anyone who is embracing innovative and out of the box ideas in order to share their faith and help people grow closer to God.

The second thing that Lynne shared that really stuck with me was the idea of how a shepherd leads. It’s interesting to note that whenever a sheep is pushed, they’ll respond with fear or anxiety, but when a shepherd goes ahead of them and calls the sheep by name they follow the shepherd peacefully. They trust the shepherd. They want to follow.

Lynne noted that anyone can lead by agitating, but leading in a way that those behind you want to follow is an art form. It requires getting to know your flock and the people you’re leading. It means establishing trust and keeping that trust. And it’s important to gently address doubts and fears that may emerge along the way. It’s an art form that not only a shepherd must master, but one we need to master, too, if we’re going to be great leaders.

Disarming for Jesus

I have a confession to make. I like pop music.

And not just the Miley Cyrus, High School Musical flavor. I like the beat thumping, chorus humming, and—dare I say it—booty-shaking kind. There it is. I am a woman in my early 30s, with three children and a minivan. I run a Christian counseling practice and a women’s ministry. People look to me for soul direction and depth, and in my spare time, I like to dance around and get low, low, low.

The best part? I think that’s OK with Jesus.

My senior pastor plays tennis on a team with my husband’s co-worker. Last week, the team finished a game and had some beers in a cooler. One of them offered my pastor a beer and (gasp!) he took it. Later, the co-worker told my husband that he cringed because his teammate must not have known he was offering a beer to a pastor. The co-worker reported. “Wow, I was surprised he had a beer with us. That’s cool.”

The door is open for my husband to invite his co-worker to our church, because he is disarmed—experiencing something that goes against his preconceived notions of Christianity. I think that’s OK with Jesus too.

The dictionary tells me that to “disarm” is to deprive of a weapon or remove the fuse. The word also means to relieve suspicion or win affection. I wonder about the suspicions people have toward Christians, and therefore Christianity: They judge me. They are better than I am. They won’t approve of me. I won’t fit in with their religion. They are all serious and no fun.

When I read the gospels, I think Jesus used this method. We know he hung around enough parties for the Pharisees to accuse him of being a drunkard. We know he befriended and taught forbidden women, despised men and pesky children.

I think the Jesus way was to disarm those around him while still being true to his mission. He interacted with culture and people so he could introduce them to his Father. He lived his life in a way that broke through stereotypes and communicated God, as he is— approachable, merciful and graceful. The people who were most upset by Jesus were the ones who preferred the status quo—the rules of the religion.

The women I talk with often tell me they will find a church “when they are good.” I usually laugh and tell them I’m still waiting to be good enough for church, but thankfully, that’s not what all churches are about. Sometimes an entire conversation with a teenager will be devoted to the current fashion and drama of the week—and then we talk about God. Disarming, isn’t it? The concept of living a free and joyful life with Jesus may seem like a basic concept for you. But is that what your neighbors think, the ones who haven’t been in church since their feet could hit the floor from the pew?

When we live our lives authentically, joyfully, and in a real-people kind of way, those around us are disarmed. They are surprised. They encounter a kind of “religion” that doesn’t fit their status quo.

It is tempting to become more invested at church and less interested in the secular world around us. It feels as comfortable as sweatpants to hang out with people who believe and feel as we do. Fellowship among believers is a wonderful gift and necessary component of our faith. But if we are truly to follow Jesus’ example, we need to look for opportunities to engage and disarm those around us. We must seek the balance in our life for the dual imperatives of holiness and relevance. When we live our lives to the full, in joy and freedom, we are disarming. We are real. And we win affection for Christ.

Have you experienced disarming someone for Christ? How do you engage in your culture without diluting Christ’s message or falling into your own sinful patterns?

Going Deeper in Relationships

All I wanted was a friend. A best friend. My family had just moved from Northern Maine to suburban Philadelphia after my 5th birthday. Friends, I thought, I‘d finally have friends. Who doesn’t want a best friend, or long for a lifelong friend? You know, the kind you make in kindergarten who stays loyal and true for a lifetime.

I don’t know about you, but neither “best friend” nor “lifelong friend” is on my friends list. As a Pastor’s kid who moved several times in my lifetime, those relationships didn’t move with me. In adulthood I have a tapestry of friends who are crisscrossed around the country but the deeper question is how many of those who have woven themselves into my life am I open and real with? How many do I communicate with about the real stuff of life?

The deep cry of most women’s hearts that I come in contact with has to do with authentic relationships. Most of us have amassed a long list of acquaintances that we pass off as friends. And those of us in leadership have an even longer list. We throw around the term “community” yet I think a deep experience of community and authentic relationships is elusive for most of us. So how do we develop authentic community? How do we know others and allow ourselves to be known? I’m in the middle of this journey.

I now have a small number of women who have seen many of my warts and scars, been privy to my deepest fears and heartaches. There is still a part that I hold back, even from God. To be fully known is one of our deepest desires, and one of our deepest fears. We live in that tension and often the fear component wins out. The way we operate relationally is often based on what we saw modeled growing up. How did our parents and those we held in esteem develop relationships? Was our dinner table frequented by outside guests, or was our family tight and closed off? Often the realities of our lives today are easily traced back to our lives of yesterday.

Many of us have experienced betrayal in relationships, or seen someone close to us betrayed. Some have even been abused or struggled with codependency issues. These things all color how we seek to develop and maintain close relationships, or whether we seek to develop them at all. I had a close friend in Junior High deeply betray me. I guarded my heart and wouldn’t let others in, especially other women, for about eight years.

The year after I graduated college I had two women call me on it. I was traveling for a year with a singing group and there were only three men and three women in the group. The other two women confronted me and said, “If you won’t open up to us, first of all, it’s going to be a long year, and secondly, we don’t think God will work as deeply through us as he could.” I knew they were right. God used their loving confrontation to break me and to begin opening my heart up to him and others.

Going deeper in relationships takes risk. If you are new to a church or workplace the risk might be asking someone out for coffee. If you are already in a relationship that seems stalled, maybe it’s taking a risk to share something deeper about yourself that might open the doorway for a friend to start sharing. If want an easy entry point to this kind sharing, you should grab a friend and come to the DIVE conference in Chicago next month. I'll be telling more of my story there.

The Joy of Communion

Every night, I ask my two-year-old son a question: What should we thank God for today? In the months we have engaged in this practice, Quinn’s thanksgivings have included noodles, his friend Lily and raisins.

One night during Lent, perched on my lap in the dark of his room, Quinn returned my question with one of his own: “I eat Christ?”

I was sure I had heard him wrong. So I asked my question again. “I eat Christ.” This time, a declaration. What a strange and disturbing thing for him to say, I thought. What are they teaching him in the nursery at church? I mumbled something about thanking God for Quinn, our family and our friends. I said, “Amen,” and Quinn responded in kind.

A few days later, he tried again. Same question, same response.

“I eat Christ.” This time, Quinn turned his palms skyward and placed his right hand over his left, in front of his heart. As if to emphasize his point, he added, “At church.”

He has been watching us.

Since he was baptized at six months, Quinn has attended church nearly every Sunday. Each week we have dutifully retrieved him from the nursery in time to join us at the altar for the Eucharist. We had never bothered to explain the practice. It wasn’t because we didn’t think he would understand. It was because we didn’t think. We were just doing what we always did.

Our priest had asked us, several times, to allow Quinn to take the elements. I had declined. I had visions of Quinn spitting out his Styrofoam-like wafer and having to scoop up the chewed-up goo and eat it myself.

The Sunday after our epiphany was different. We told Quinn he could take communion.

The sanctuary was peaceful. We rule-following Episcopalians were sitting quietly listening to the organ while ushers directed us. Quinn could not wait. He raced to the altar, palms facing up. He joyfully yelled, “I eat Christ, Mama!” He dodged our grasp and the amused members of the choir, squeezing into an empty spot on the kneeler. He stood on top of it.

“The body of Christ, the bread of heaven,” a priest said.

Quinn watched as she pressed the wafer into his palm. He placed the wafer on his tongue and said, “Amen.”

Each Sunday since has been the same -- the same joy, the same wonder, the same sincerity, the same abandon.

Did he learn it from me, or the congregation he has been carefully watching? I wonder. We adults, particularly the adults in the lives of a preschooler, are a “no”-saying sort.

No, you can’t squish Play-Doh down the vent. No, you can’t have another box of yogurt raisins. No, you can’t jump in a puddle when you’re dressed for school. No, you can’t shriek in the house. No, you can’t spray water all over the bathroom.

We like no. No gives us power and control. And we don’t reserve it just for our children. We tell our colleagues no, our bosses no, our parents no, our friends no. We lack time or energy or interest or money -- for more work or for more ideas. We bring no into our churches and our institutions. I brought no to my son’s prayers, when I assumed he couldn’t have understood enough to ask for communion.

But the joy of resurrection and of coming to the table is about yes. That is not to say we should let our children run into traffic or stick their fingers in light sockets. We shouldn’t say yes to every request for our time or every new notion. The “yeses” of resurrection and communion are about cultivating openness, imagination and gratitude for the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives, without a predisposition to doing what always has been done and what is most convenient.

It is about a spirit of adoption and not rejection.

At Easter, we pray, “O God, who made this most holy night to shine with the glory of the Lord’s resurrection: Stir up in your Church that Spirit of adoption which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth.”

What would we experience if every week we came to worship, to the table, in joy? If we sang exuberantly, prayed with our whole hearts, let the power of love in God’s church wash over us? If we ran to and from the table, hands outstretched, hearts ready for this divine moment of grace and thanksgiving and community?

What would Quinn, all children, all seekers experience if they saw that unrestrained joy every Sunday when they watched us? Would it sustain their spirit of adoption, form them in a lifetime of passion for God?