Do Over

As a kid, when something went wrong during a game at recess, somebody would holler, "Do over." That meant you got a second try at the game. In playground law, it was assumed that you deserved second chances.

As an adult, it seems that do overs are few and far between. It seems that our choices are weightier with tougher, more long term consequences. Maybe that's why getting a second chance is such a beautiful thing.

We have recently had deep, dark times with our teens. Without betraying their trust, I will simply say that it's easily been one of the hardest months of my life. However, the light at the end of the tunnel is that God handed me a do over. So many times with teens you don't have the opportunity to repair what is broken, therefore I am very grateful for a second chance.

The catch of second chances is that they don't come easily or without sacrifice. For this season in our life, our children have expressed their primary need is more time at home - lots of time with our family. This means that I have given up journey groups, ministry opportunities, and friendships. For this season in our lives, I am digging in deeply and investing into my children. While I desperately miss my friends and getting to minister alongside Shawn, I am already seeing changes at our home.

Tonight I skipped James' game to bring the girls home. We picked up a few groceries at the store, turned on some music and danced, sang, and cooked supper together. As we laughed together at the dinner table, I realized that the lights are shining again in my girls' eyes. They are starting to feel loved and valued again. I have to say that the sparkles in their eyes make the sacrifices easy.

Tonight I was thankful that God is still a God of second chances. And that He gives us the good sense to seize them!

Ode to the metronome

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Fast. Slow. Steady beat. Such was the voice of my metronome. It was ancient when it first came into my possession, belonging first to my older brother, and if memory serves me correctly, my grandmother before him.

It was not the modern metronome - a slick black box with a tiny battery that makes it click. Instead it was a wooden triangular box with a wind-up key on the side. If you wound the key nine times, the metronome had enough power to last for over an hour of practice.

When I left home, I didn't bring a lot of my childhood things along, but I did pack the metronome. As we have moved many times, I have kept my metronome. When we stored stuff when our house went on the market, I left the metronome in a kitchen cabinet where I could see it daily.

Maybe that seems like a strange item to keep, but my metronome and I have been through much together. Rhythm is not my strongest gift. Many times over the years, I became extraordinarily frustrated by complicated measures of music. I have yelled at, hit, and thrown my metronome. Then I would retrieve it, reset it, and try again. It has been many years since I last needed to know the exact difference between 64 and 72 beats a minutes, however I still open the cabinet to look at that metronome frequently.

My old metronome is a strong reminder of persistence. Even though rhythm doesn't come naturally for me, any song can be mastered with enough hard work and discipline. My metronome is a reminder of where I have been. When I see the old beat-up case, I remember the hours of frustration over music that is now simple. I remember the hours of time I invested in something that I have grown to love. I am reminded that I am human as I examine the dents in the case from the angry outbursts as a teen.

Tonight, I opened the metronome one last time for my kids to use for band practice. Their fancy slick little black box needed new batteries, so they were willing to use my antique. Unfortunately, my metronome has starting counting off beat - like me. 1...2...........3..4...........1......2..3.4......1.2.3.........4........

Instead of throwing it away, I gently replaced the cover and set it back on the shelf. I decided that I needed it, even if it wasn't able to help me count anymore. I need the reminder that anything is possible if you have the persistence to daily refuse to accept failure. While my metronome may be a little off beat, it is still dead on with its life lessons.

Monday Morning Update 10/17/10

I just realized that I skipped last week's blog. I had great intentions of writing, but somehow life got in the way.

Last weekend was phenomenal! We met at the school for an opening song, and a short devotional. Then Shawn dismissed our congregation with a grocery bag and a list of needed items for our local food pantry. Our members went to the store, purchased some of those items and returned with 660 pounds of groceries for hungry families in our community.

It was great to see our people engaged in missions and realizing that service is worship. Worship is so much more than warm fuzzy feelings from singing awesome music. Worship is about loving others and loving God.

This week Shawn sat in the "hot seat" and answered people's questions about life and the Bible. I am always amazed by his expertise in these moments that he has a grasp on the Bible to be able to go to the chapter and verse that he needs for the answer. I am so much more of a generalist. "Well, somewhere the Bible says...." Over the years, this has always been one of my favorite services because I have the opportunity to hear from people's hearts about what bothers them, and because I think it makes people realize their full accessibility to their pastor to have the freedom to ask questions more often.

This week we also played with a new band. There has been much transition over the last two years in our worship band as members have moved away or felt led to attend other churches. I miss my old friends very deeply, but I am thankful that God is providing for our needs at this moment. Our worship pastor, Robby, had even placed ads seeking band members without success, but apparently God planned to meet that need by bringing in musicians as church members. I am very excited about working with these new musicians and expect to see God move in huge ways in our future.

We are facing many other transitions in our near future, but we are confident that God has things under control and has plans to meet our needs in ways we can't even imagine at this time.

I would ask my prayer warrior friends to spend some time on your knees for The Crossroads. Our families are in great distress. We have many experiencing severe financial crisis, marriage problems, addictions, and illness. One dear friend lost her preterm baby and another is sitting in ICU tonight with her teen son who just had a brain tumor removed. It feels like we are fighting against darkness on many fronts, and definitely need prayers during this season.

At a personal level, we are struggling hard with our teens. They are fighting against depression, discouragement, and anger. I have yanked back from many commitments in order to spend more time at home, which seems to be helping them, although it leaves me (a people person) rather lonely. Pray that God will raise up those who will help us walk alongside our children, to encourage them in ways and times that we aren't able. Pray that we will be wise as we seek solutions. Pray that God will give me the ability to let him be my "Enough" as I walk life a bit more secluded than usual instead of at my husband's side in journey groups and other events.

I want to be clear here: I love what we do. I love being a part of The Crossroads. I am glad to be a church planter and wouldn't trade it for the world. I am simply asking that as we walk a tough road in a rainy season, that you would lift us up before the Father as a part of your regular prayer time.

My son's fashion mandate

Riding in the car, merging into traffic on 82, my 13 year old son randomly announces his latest fashion mandate. "Men should NOT wear anything that has to have the word 'man' inserted in front of it. That means it's really girly, but they just want to wear it." I snickered, but didn't start snorting with laughter until he began the monologue list.

"Like a kilt. It's a MAN skirt. It doesn't matter if it has the word man in front, it's still a SKIRT!"

"Or a Man thong. That's just weird. There is NOTHING manly about a thong. Who even invented a man thong? Who wears that?"

"Or Manpris. They're still girly short pants, no matter what you call them. Unless you're in the British army. Then it's okay."

"Or a MAN purse. That's just a purse. Men carry backpacks. Women carry purses. Definitely leather over the shoulder screams, 'I'm a girl.' Maybe a big brown bag with lots of pockets for your computer is okay."

"Or MANscara. That's just wrong."

I thought you all might enjoy just a slice of life in the Kemp car on a random Monday afternoon. Supper was even better. We started with conversation, but somehow it degenerated to all the different noises and faces they could make. Such is our crazy life.

Monday Morning Update 10/3/10

I have thoroughly enjoyed the worship message series this month. Last week we spent the service time in prayer. I had the opportunity to move through the four different prayer stations based on the Lord's Prayer with my daughter Grace. It was a beautiful, moving experience to have the opportunity to spend the morning in prayer with her after a hard week.

This week the service was entirely on music and the various postures of worship used in the scripture. We set up the chairs in the round and the band came off the stage so that it had the feel of a big jam session. I thought it was great to spend time actually communicating to our new believers what worship looks like and why we stand and why we kneel and why we lift hands. I think it will help them to feel freer in their expression and more comfortable during worship in the future.

I enjoyed having the children with us in the service this week. I thought it was good for families to have the opportunity to worship together.

Here it is - the end of another weekend. I am certainly not ready to dive into another week of teaching. Please pray that God will grant me the ability to love and minister to my students and colleagues this week with a positive attitude.

Friday Night Lights

A pair of worn out sneakers on the feet, a little coldplay on the ipod, and the Friday night run begins. The weather is perfect - a cool breeze whipping through my hair and blowing across the sweat slipping down my arms - leaving goose bumps in its place.

But the most incredible part of the run is the lights. Not the streetlights, not the halloween lights on the neighbors' houses, but the stars. The stars are indescribable. They are crystal clear, distant, and bright. Running under the Friday night lights melts away the stress of life. For a few minutes there is no career, no parenting, no papers to write, nobody to please. For a few minutes it's just God and me, enjoying the stars.

Love me some Friday night lights - and you thought I was going to blog about football!

Monday Morning Update 9/20/10

We began a new series today at the Crossroads called "Experience Worship." The service was about the cross and how our redemption leads to worship. We opened with "Made to Worship." Then Shawn took the stage to talk about the work of the cross. When Christ died he set us free. Shawn challenged us to think about what we are still carrying - sin, guilt, sorrow, burdens - that Christ already paid for. Next we wrote those things down and nailed them on the wooden cross with square nails and walked over to the communion table to remember what Christ has done for us.

I knew this service was approaching, so I spent some time last night really praying about what I would need to put on my paper. God revealed lots of areas that I am walking in disobedience or lacking in faith. It was a breaking point for me last night to really think through what's going on in my life right now. This morning after practice, I picked up a slip of paper from the front pew and slipped backstage to read through scripture and pray about the specifics of what to write on my paper. I wanted to have it ready before the services began so that I could quickly return to stage to pick back up playing the keyboard.

After I filled my paper with tiny microscopic print, I spent some time on my knees praying that today we would experience the reality of Isaiah 6 - that we would be completely confronted with God's holiness, and feel the desire to be made clean in his presence. After praying through that passage and reading about the angel cleansing Isaiah, I remembered that no matter how much black ink was on my paper, God has paid the price and fully redeemed me. So on the flip side of the paper, I wrote "redeemed" in big letters and throughout the service as Shawn spoke, I stared at the side of my paper that said "redeemed" rather than all the stuff on the back. I think that as believers it is important to remember just how big and complete that "redeemed" is in our lives - no matter what is on the flip side.

When Shawn opened up the time for us to come to the altar to nail the papers down, I went first. I wanted to be the first to nail on my sins, because Jesus would still have died, even if mine were the only sins on the planet. As I humbly, and brokenly began to nail, the hammer slipped and I whacked my thumb. To my credit, I kept my mouth shut, (because there wasn't any room to add more sins to my piece of paper), moved the nail to a better location and swung again with great force. This time I heard "ping, ping, ping," as my nail went flying across the stage. I resisted the urge to spoil everybody's holy moment with loud laughter, and the guy waiting behind me discretely slipped me another nail with a subdued snort. Shawn (who oddly finds my clumsiness adorable) said later, "That was such a you thing to do."

I moved to the communion table, and spent time on my knees thankful for God's work in my past and my present and very thankful that He will continue to work in my life in the future. It was a very beautiful service to see our people kneeling and nailing. There was something about the sound of the hammer hitting the nails that made it very real that while we were nailing paper slips today, there was a day a couple thousand years ago when a hammer drove nails into my Savior's hands and feet.

I am grateful tonight that I can live my life on the redeemed side of my paper. That no matter what is on the back side of my paper, it is not who I am. I am God's masterpiece, created for a relationship with him. I am thankful that my mistakes, my failures, my past, my pains, my sins, and my struggles are not the end of who I am, but only a reminder of how great God truly is.

What a beautiful day at The Crossroads!