It’s after midnight and you’re sleeping, finally, after some last-minute packing of crates and duffels and some help from Tylenol PM. Good to see it working—tomorrow you will fly to Tanzania by way of Amsterdam, a 24-hour journey you’re dreading. Sleep is good.

I should be sleeping, too, but I may also need pills. Yesterday on a flight of my own I sat next to an Army private heading out for a tour of duty. I thought about the people who love him and wondered how they could say goodbye as he left for a year or longer. How did they choke down breakfast that morning? How did they endure the ride to the airport? How did they peel themselves away after the last hug?


Tomorrow morning I will find out, as I join your other friends and family to see you off for two or maybe even three years of missionary service in Africa.

Neither of us knows what those years will bring. By 2014 I could be married with triplets (please, no) or promoting my first book or fighting cancer. When you return you will be forever changed by years of learning Swahili, bonding with the young students you’ve taught, and witnessing God’s provision in the desert. Who will we be when we meet again? The changes are both unknowable and unstoppable, and even the positive possibilities overwhelm me as I sit thinking tonight.

But even as my mind races, I know some things will not change: My interest in your work. My love for you as a friend and adopted sister. The everlasting God who holds both of us in his hands.

Tomorrow you, too, will follow the orders of your Captain. You will fly off to war and confront not only the intangible spiritual battles of a country but also its too-real droughts and riots and danger.

And I will manage a few gulps of coffee, and endure the ride to IND, and let you go after the final hug. And I’ll be waiting at the airport when you come home.

Filed under: family, life, the church Tagged: Africa, missionary, tanzania

Be someone other than Jennifer Taylor.

Kidding, of course, although this is a good first step since I have completely mastered worrying and could compete at a Worry Olympics with other champions.


It began early.

Jen, age 5: (holding paper and crayons, sobbing): Mom, I can’t make my fours right. I make them backwards. (More sobbing.) Mrs. Pence makes her fours the right way and I can’t do it!

(Mrs. Pence was my kindergarten teacher, a lovely lady who introduced me to turnips and wrote a poem about me that had nothing to do with turnips before retiring the next year. But I digress.)

Mom: (patient smile): How old is Mrs. Pence?

Jen (trying to breathe): Old.

Mom: How long has she been making her fours?

Jen: A long time. Because she’s old.

Mom: How long have you been trying to do your fours?

Jen (a dim light dawning in her tear-soaked little brain): One day.

Mom: Right. I promise before you are old you will make your fours just fine. You just need to practice some more.

Sniffling and hugs…………….end scene.


So the ability to turn small issues into huge crises is one of my biggest gifts.

But I’m now closer to 35 than 5 (gulp) and it’s time to get a handle on this. Although the situations are far less common now, I still tend to turn into that teary five-year-old (inside, anyway) when things I care about don’t go as planned.

Worry is one of those acceptable sins, like gluttony and gossip, that we minimize or say we can’t help. Sometimes we also cause ourselves more worry by believing if we could just “trust God more” we would stop fretting, and therefore we are bad Christians with little faith.

I disagree with both perspectives.


I think it’s a control issue.


Author and Christian psychologist Henry Cloud writes, “Worry is often the non-acceptance of situations that you cannot do anything about.”

This is an amazing insight, because it positions worry as the symptom, not the core problem. The real issue is an inability to accept our lack of control over other people and circumstances. We are unable to accept that we may not get the house we put an offer on, or the job we interview for, or the relationship we want. We can’t control the other couple making an offer or the opinions of the interviewer or the feelings of the potential friend or date.

We can do some things, of course: work with a good realtor and make a competitive offer, research the company and practice our interview skills, share our wishes for the friendship. But ultimately we cannot make anyone else do anything, and we certainly can’t control the timeline of their response. We must simply do what we can and let it go. (This is where the trust-in-God discussion becomes more helpful.)

You lucky non-worrier types are thinking, “What’s the big deal? Of course you can’t control everything. Why waste all that emotional energy?” To which I say to you, on behalf of all worriers everywhere, yes, we know, and thank you for pointing out that we are wasting time and energy on this because now that gives us something else to feel bad about. Also, please ask your spouse what aspects of your “laid-back” personality drive them nuts.


As for me, one thing I have accepted is it’s time to deal with this issue, this year. After all, I did finally learn to make my fours. I can do this, too.

Filed under: family, God, life Tagged: anxiety, henry cloud, stress, worry

When I was young, my parents determined what I ate, what I wore and—as much as is possible with a strong-willed child—how I behaved. (They also determined the punishments when I misbehaved.) That’s what parents do.

Now my folks and I relate as adults. I still honor their role, and I try to submit to them as I would to any other believer, but all three of us set boundaries and make our own choices. We even argue occasionally.

In a recent enews from Crossroads Christian Church in Anthem, AZ, lead pastor Steve Wyatt wrote about the difference between parent-child forms of interaction (in which one participant assumes a domineering role and the other passively submits) and the adult-adult form (in which two adults relate to each other as peers).


Steve says, “Far too often, the church traffics in the realm of the Parent-Child relationship. Leaders function in the role of the authoritative “Dad” and faithfully discharge their duties in a rather dictatorial fashion.

In some church traditions, Christians aren’t taught how to think, they’re told what to think. They’re handed a creedal statement and told to memorize it. Young people are given lists of ‘Do’s and Don’ts’ rather than schooled in the art of discernment and wisdom…..

The fact is, the single most popular approach in religion is the Jim Jones model of discipleship (remember him?). He’s the grape Kool-Aid cult leader who led nearly 1000 people to follow him right into the jaws of self-imposed death. That’s the approach of many in religious circles: Treat your flock like mindless children. Demand their acquiescence. Keep them dependent on you and you alone for life’s answers. Create dependency over discipleship.

That’s the Parent-Child approach to church leadership. And it works. In fact, dare I say it? Most of the so-called ‘megachurches’ in our culture function according to this model.”



These are bold statements. And, in some ways, correct ones. I know several megachurch ministers who prefer this parent-child method. (I’ll send you a list for $19.95 plus shipping and handling.)

I also know some who take this approach with their staff; in fact, just last week I heard about another one, a pastor who, without all the facts, belittled a staff member’s ministry and questioned the person’s key relationships under the guise of helping the person “be a good example.” Instead of acting like a spiritual leader, inviting the staff member’s perspective, or—at the least—treating the person like a team member, the pastor mandated conformity to his uninformed ideas of what the staffer’s life should look like.

But I also know senior leaders who quite rightly would bristle at the implication they want church members or staff to mindlessly follow them. Of course, they teach the scriptures unapologetically; adult-adult relationships are not about diluting the truth or making everyone feel good. But some issues really do have more gray than black and white, and many leaders really do want people to study, pray, and develop their own faith.


Which is also God’s preference. If anyone has the right to invoke a parent-child dynamic, it’s the Father, but he requires us to make choices, experience consequences and “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.”

It’s easier, quicker, and more satisfying in the short term to tell people what to think, how to behave, or how to feel; it’s much more difficult and time-consuming to dialogue, explain, and listen. It requires more maturity to accept conflict and messiness as part of the process, and to accept that the process may take decades.

Basically, it requires people to be adults, and the root problem is many leaders—in and outside the church—never learned to relate this way. In these situations we must still honor their roles and submit to their authority. But we can also set boundaries, make choices, and even argue occasionally. It’s what adults do.

Filed under: family, God, opinions, the church Tagged: authority, Jim Jones, parent, Steve Wyatt

It’s been a great summer—I vacationed in Martha’s Vineyard, planted my first garden and started several interesting work projects.


I also learned several things. For instance:

There was no need to plant that much cucumber.

Just because he kisses you doesn’t mean he wants to date you. (Yes, every other girl learned this when she was 15.)

Just because he says he wants to date you doesn’t mean he wants to date you. (This is the advanced version.)

It’s nerve-wracking to give announcements in front of 4,000 people at the NACC.

I have many talents, but playing kickball is not one of them.

11 email accounts is too many.

Maybe I don’t want to have kids, after all.

Very few things people call “epic” actually are.




We move in the direction of the questions we ask.

Working in the garden for two hours in 100 degrees gives you a headache that will not go away for two days.

I have an amazing, amazingly fun family. (I already knew that, but this summer’s been a nice reminder.)

There is never enough time for all the books I want to read.

The Artist is Present.

I’m unable to stop eating guacamole once I start.

I like not traveling all the time even more than I thought I would.

If you’re going to set off illegal fireworks and you’re not sure what they do, maybe don’t do it in your driveway.

INTJs are only 1-4% of the population. No wonder the rest of you don’t make any sense.


What did you learn this summer?

Filed under: family, fun, life, opinions Tagged: garden, INTJ, Martha's Vineyard, plant, summer, The Artist is Present

It’s that time of year again, when I take a vacation from the blog (unless I’m inspired by videos like last year). Try to muddle through, and I’ll see you in a week.

—————————————————————————————

Yesterday at lunch a friend and I were discussing the relativism of money. I remember feeling adamant, as a know-it-all, black-and-white teenager, that “real” Christians would not be wealthy because they would give the extra away. Of course, as an adult I realize defining “extra” is part of the problem; if someone I considered rich lived a comfortable middle-class existence and donated the rest, he (and I) would still be wealthier than most of the world.

I’m more comfortable with the grey area these days, and I’m very comfortable paying a few hundred bucks for a week at the beach with friends and family. So I’ll be taking a little blogging break, returning next weekend a little tanner, a little calmer….and a little poorer.

Filed under: family, fun, life Tagged: vacation