The One Where I Start Writing About God Again
Plus a collection of delights for April
I am setting up the water table for my children, lugging buckets of water from the kitchen sink to the backyard since our outside water is still turned off, and our hoses are still hanging in the garage. I grab a few popsicles from the freezer before settling on a blanket to watch the kids play, and I think to myself: Midwesterners sure do know how to forgive and forget winter quickly.
Just in time for Easter, our city is bursting back to life, having its own kind of resurrection from the bitter cold. A week ago, our backyard was covered with snow. Today, the eighty degree weather has us twirling around the backyard, arms outstretched, singing loudly like some Disney character. In between tearing the house apart searching for sunscreen and ordering new sun hats to protect my children’s pasty white skin, the girls and I take turns proclaiming all the newfound, glorious gifts. I show the children how full the Creek is, how it flows faster now than it has in months, thanks to the melting snow. My four-year-old tells me she can smell someone grilling burgers down the block. My toddler smiles at the neighborhood children’s shrieks as they return to running through the alleys.
We spend the afternoon this way, taking turns noticing the miracle of things coming back to life.
//
Later that night, my husband and I are sitting around our friends’ backyard fire pit, eating brats and burgers, drinking beer, and laughing. I imagine anyone walking down the street and peering over the fence would never in a million years guess we are gathered here to talk about Jesus. But that’s exactly what we are doing. In between checking on our babies and hollering at our big kids to cut out the horseplay, we are tending to each others’ souls. We are asking each other:
Do you believe Jesus comes to look for you instead of you looking for Him?
Do you believe your security with Jesus is not based on how much your life or your behavior transform?
Do you believe there is not one thing required of you to keep His love? Do you believe you cannot be disqualified from His family?
The answer in my own heart? A deep exhale, a loosening of clenched fists, an understanding that this is the millionth time I have been brought back to a pure gospel with zero strings attached, and it will not be the last.
I play through the last decade in my head, recall when I was twenty and this news first rocked me to my core, think through the years upon years of being carried back to it every week, every day, a thousand times a day. I think about how often I have fought it tooth and nail like some sort of angsty toddler.
I consider how, in the end, I have not found a more compelling story than this.
//
My husband and I are driving home from a baseball game on a Tuesday night, our voices hoarse from cheering. The Twins beat the Yankees 6-2, and we are carrying the crowd’s ecstatic energy with us. As we are speeding down the highway, the small sedan in front of us somehow kicks up a sizable rock with its back tire. It hits our windshield with a loud whack and makes a quarter-sized crack. We both sit there, surprised, but mostly miffed that it takes less than a second and a bit of bad luck for an entire windshield to be ruined.
“Well,” my husband finally says, “Good thing I decided to get this covered in our auto insurance policy.”
I stare at the spidery crack wondering—if we decide to just leave it—how long it will take to feather out and grow larger.
“You know what I wish?” I ask.
“What?” he replies.
“I wish there was an insurance policy for when this kind of stuff happens to your faith.”
He pauses for a minute before looking over at me. “There is,” he says with a wink.
I roll my eyes and grin, despite myself.
//
I am reading down the mental list of words that make me cringe—all the ones that feel like pine needles stuck in the soles of my bare feet.
Spiritual fruit.
Heart posture.
Good works.
Christian living.
He is asking me why those phrases make me angry.
I am telling him it is because they sound nice, but are too often prescriptive, too often a permission slip to judge how well other people are living.
I am telling him that all these phrases have started to mesh together in my brain, have begun to feel like metaphors for some kind of One Way to Be A Christian masterclass.
I am diving into a lecture like an angry preacher: Does the Gospel change us? Yes. Does it propel us towards humility and kindness and love? Yes. Do we need to spend hours discussing what it looks like to be a Christian, what kinds of behaviors are Christian or not, what kinds of lifestyles are disqualifying, and how to tune up our heart posture to better serve Christ? One thousand times, no.
I am flopping myself back on the bed, shouting at the ceiling: “I have done that kind of faith before, and I cannot do it again! I don’t understand why we can’t just talk about the gospel. Period. Why must we be so concerned with all of the secondary stuff?”
He is sitting on the floor, arms crossed, smirking.
“Well, of all the places to end up in the middle of a faith crisis, I think this is probably the best place to be.”
I throw a pillow at his head and smile at the ceiling.
//
I know what it is to feel angry and disenchanted with the God so many of us grew up believing in. I know what it is to tear down whatever crumbling foundation you may be standing on and rebuild it brick by brick. I know what it is to rage at the stoic deity we used to fear—one who saves us while still holding a handful of rules over our heads, still requiring us to meet some external standards, still demanding we continue to seek Him, do enough good works, bear enough fruit, live a Christian Life, have the right heart posture.
Maybe that’s why A.W. Tozer said: “What we believe when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” It can ruin us, or it can soften us. (However, for what it’s worth, I would like to change this quote to be more about Him carrying us through, and less about what we believe. Maybe something like: “What God has done for us through Jesus is the most important thing about us.” Boom. Fixed it. No offense, Tozer).
Here is my hope for those of you who are in a season of disenchantment and weariness: To those who have been hurt by arbitrary measuring sticks, may you feel free to break them in half and be on your way. To those who say, “I don’t believe in the God I grew up believing in,” may you find comfort knowing that so many of us are here, saying: “Solidarity. Me neither.” To those who have dumped out all their theology on the table, may you feel free to sort through it piece by piece, keep what is true, chuck the rest in the garbage, and be at peace with all that you still do not know (and will likely never know). To those who cannot bring themselves to sing with the congregation on Sunday, may you listen for your friends’ voices in the next pew and let them sing for you, instead.
He is the one keeping you, despite it all. Like a loving parent sits with their child who is wailing and screaming and kicking and raging, so God is with you. You are not too much for Him. He is tender towards you, always. You need not put down your anger in order to be with Him. He will not send you away. He is always coming after you, finding you in the corner, pulling you into His arms, holding you through it all.
learning with littles
A snapshot of what the girls and I are learning together in our day-to-day:
We got a brief taste of summer this month, and the sunshine and hours spent in the backyard those days have been enough to carry us through the rest of this rainy/muddy/chilly month. We got out my preschooler’s balance bike, pumped up the stroller tires, hung the swing in our giant maple tree, and set up our mud kitchen in the backyard. (I also ordered new sun-hats in a complete panic upon realizing my one-year-old and four-year-old now have the exact same size head—I still do not understand how this is possible).
We finished a lot of what I had hoped to accomplish this year (like this kinder prep book and this math book) so we’re moving more slowly and going where my (limited) energy is. Here’s what went on in our home this month:
-We tried “notebooking” for the first time (this is not an actual word, but it is, apparently, a homeschool word). I first learned about this through Treehouse Schoolhouse, and it’s such a fun way to start having kids narrate and summarize what they’re learning while practicing handwriting.
-We are slowly working our way through Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons. This book truly has a cult-like following and I am starting to understand the appeal now that we have about 20 lessons under our belt. This isn’t the only resource we’re using for teaching reading, but I do love its phonics comprehensiveness and Orton-Gillingham approach.
-All things Easter—art projects, jellybean math, and a giant Road to Redemption coloring sheet from Tiny Theologians.
-A lot of open-ended outdoor play, which is just the way we all like it.
This month, we learned about: rain, eggs, new life, and Easter. If you’re interested, you can find more of our homeschool content here.
beautiful words
In no particular order, here are some words I read this month that deeply resonated with me:
-Good Bones by Maggie Smith is a poem I returned to several times this month. Her memoir, You Could Make This Place Beautiful recently came out and I can’t wait to get my hands on it (she was even in Minneapolis this month to speak about her book, and I’m still kicking myself that I missed it).
-Because These Failures Are My Job by Alison Luterman is an honest look at attention, presence, and striving to offer ourselves wholly to the moment, despite our frequent failure to do so.
-Grace, Eleven Ways by Molly Flinkman is proof that there is always light to be found in the dark places. I walked away from this essay challenged and inspired to live my life more like this—to look for the grace, everywhere.
-You Cannot Protect Your Children From Moana by Julia Langbein was such a raucous—I cackled through the whole thing and then re-read it several times. Like her, I also have a distaste for the Disney princess thing, and I also find myself with girls who have been obsessed with princesses ever since I finally caved and let them watch their first princess movie several months ago. *Please understand this piece is incredibly sarcastic and also includes some cringey language (in other words, it was right up my alley).
books / podcasts / shows
A list of things playing in my ears, sitting on my nightstand, or streaming on my tv:
-This month, I read Indigo by Ellen Bass and Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong. Both were incredible. Vuong’s voice is new to me—intimate, vivid, raw, I found it so captivating (and English is his second language, which makes this masterpiece even more astounding). I will be returning to his work often.
-I adored listening to Maggie Smith talk with Kate Bowler about her memoir. She mentions why she finds before and after comparisons unsettling, how she prefers neither the lemons nor the lemonade, and how she spent her first Christmas without her children, among other things. She is so honest about beauty, pain, and piecing our fragmented selves back together.
-Michelle Obama came on the podcast, We Can Do Hard Things and I had zero chill about it. The entire conversation was so refreshing. Mrs. Obama discussed the exhaustion of working at a marriage while having young children (honestly, so validating), the importance of compromise, and the gift of forging a safe landing space for our children.
-My friend Skylar told me I needed to watch Tick Tick Boom, and boy was she right. It blew me away. This musical stars Andrew Garfield and is directed by Lin-Manuel Miranda (how can you not love it already?!) It tells the story of Jonathan Larson’s struggle for success as a theater composer in New York City (he would later go on to write the Broadway musical “Rent” which would play for twelve consecutive years). The music in this film was so incredible and catchy, the struggling artist narrative so relatable and raw. I loved the whole thing.
-Create Anyway by Ashlee Gadd is exactly the book I have wanted/needed to read for so long. Ashlee encourages mothers to pursue their creative dreams in the margins, fulfill their call to co-create with their Maker, and spend their days noticing the beauty around them. Ashlee’s words on perfectionism and creating even when we’re not feeling inspired was an especially good word for me. (And you can’t beat the journaling prompts at the end of each chapter).
feeding the fam
Here’s a rundown of some of the family favorites that showed up on our table this month:
-One perk of being vegan once upon a time is our family’s sheer appreciation for meals we otherwise wouldn’t look twice at, like Cookie & Kate’s BYO Buddha Bowl. It’s so simple to throw together, and it’s a great family-style meal so the kids can leave off what they don’t want. (I am going to anticipate the “but where is the protein?!” question right now bc everyone always used to ask me this in my vegan days. The edamame actually has a lot of protein, but you can cook the rice in bone broth if you want even more, or add chicken or tofu).
-When the weather turned cold and rainy again, my husband and I made this chicken rice soup. There is nothing fancy about it, and it has a very classic, homestyle, Midwestern-y flavor profile, which is sometimes just the way I like it. But I might add a little curry powder next time to kick it up a notch. (I skipped the evaporated milk part and just added a splash of cream at the end, and it was just fine).
-I bought this cookbook last year based on Molly Flinkman’s recommendation and it really does live up to the hype. It’s probably one of the only cookbooks I have that promises easy, everyday dinner recipes and actually delivers on that promise. This month, I made the barbecue chicken pasta salad recipe, as a way of telling Mother Nature: We are certainly ready for summer and barbecues and pasta salads by now, and we are done with winter, thank you very much.
the little things
A list of some little things I’ve been loving:
-I have a problem where I am very particular about my t-shirts. I will not bore you with particulars, but I swear these are the basic tee jackpot: thicker cotton with more of a pre-washed look, crew neck, lots of mellow color options, and a fit that is not too form-fitting for my taste. Sign me up. (They’re unisex, so size down one size unless you’re going for a more oversized look).
-This sunscreen stick for my children’s faces (and mine, in a pinch). It’s SO much easier to apply than liquid sunscreen.
-These little frozen chocolate-covered fruit treats are a new favorite for all of us (although I do not give many of them to the children because they are expensive and, let’s be honest, delicious).
words I’ve written
Here are some of my own words put to paper this month:
-I wrote this freewrite for Coffee & Crumbs on the tension mothers often face between feeling exhausted and humbled, and feeling grateful for the moments when we are able to offer ourselves, wholeheartedly, to our children.
-Issue 2 of Part-Time Poets comes out tomorrow! You can read the first issue here.
-My second collection of poetry came out this month! This collection features five poems about finding light in the broken places, and I hope they encourage you to do the same.
-I wrote this poem for my church’s women’s retreat which, coincidentally enough, revolved around the theme of Jesus as the true light and illumination. One of the young writers in our congregation typed it up for me on her typewriter, which I thought was so sweet.
Thanks for reading, friends. Whether or not you find yourself able to speak about God, whether or not you feel able to sing about what He has done, whether or not you feel like your belief is barely there these days, remember He is the One holding onto you. He is the One coming to find you, always.
Love,
Krista
This was beautiful and vulnerable. Thank you for sharing. 💛
So good. Loved the AW Tozer rewrite ;)