Deadheading Sin

Image taken from https://www.petalrepublic.com/zinnia-flower/

I’m an emerging green thumb (thanks to my mom and Aunt Beth who are truly experts, and of course Martha Stewart). Several years ago, I learned about deadheading—removing dead flower heads from a plant to encourage more blooming (Google.com). Essentially, you cut off what’s dead (and unnecessarily draining resources from the plant) to allow for new, vibrant growth.

Last summer and early fall, when I was deadheading the zinnias in our front yard, I thought, this is exactly why we need to remove sin from our lives.

I think we often conceive of sin as a list of do’s and don’ts; a set of standards that we try not to transgress. If our understanding of sin is this one dimensional, then we fail to grasp what it does in our lives and the detrimental impact it has on our relationships.

Sin is like a dead flower—it drains us, weighs us down, and detracts from the beauty of what our lives could be.

When we live in sin, our lives, and relationships, look dull and dried up. We lack vibrancy and our lives look, well, dead. Sin unnecessarily steals emotional and spiritual energy from us; resources which could be allocated toward our growth and flourishing. Sin mares the image of God that we’re made in (Genesis 1:27) and prevents us from living into the fullness that God intends for our lives and relationships.

If we want to thrive, we need to fastidiously prune sin. We need to cut out the dead, decaying parts of our lives to make room for new, beautiful growth. Only then will our lives reflect the fullness of who God designed us to be; only then will we fully live into his image (Genesis 1:27).

Aspen Community

Image taken from https://www.idtdna.com/pages/community/blog/post/clonal-colonies-in-the-forest

I was in Denver last weekend, celebrating my niece’s second birthday. While we were on a walk, my stepmom and my sister were discussing Aspen trees. I learned from their conversation that Aspen trees are communal organisms—they grow in pairs, groups, or groves to survive.

Upon hearing this, I said to my stepmom, “Could there be any better analogy for the human experience and our need for one another?”

I think not.

I’m not an arborist (which is why I didn’t know this fascinating tidbit about Aspens in the first place). Nor do I claim to be. However, what I learned is that Aspens have a rich underground system. Their roots are interconnected, and they share nutrients to help each other grow. They need each other to flourish and survive.

It’s the same for humans.

I always tell my early childhood development students, “We were born social—our brains are hardwired for social connection. Without plentiful human interaction, emotional connection, and social support, young children fail to thrive.”

It’s no different for adults.

Yet, many adults are currently failing to thrive due to loneliness.[i]  They’re planted in solitary environments (for a variety of reasons) and are experiencing the side effects—depression, anxiety, heart disease, substance abuse, and domestic violence.[ii] The very opposite of flourishing.

This loneliness epidemic[iii] predates the COVID epidemic. COVID merely brought it to light and reinforced what we already knew—for humans, relationships are king. Like Aspens, we are communal organisms. We need connection to survive. We need to root ourselves with others to flourish. Then, like Aspens, we’ll be hardy, resilient, and capable of growing in all environments and in all seasons.[iv]

*This Aspen analogy is rife with application. I might delve into it more in future posts.

[i] Richard Weissbourd, Milena Batanova, Virginia Lovison, and Eric Torres. “Loneliness in America How the Pandemic Has Deepened an Epidemic of Loneliness and What We Can Do About It” https://mcc.gse.harvard.edu/reports/loneliness-in-america (2023, February)

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Hannah Featherman. “Tree Profile: Aspen – So Much More Than A Tree.” https://www.nationalforests.org/blog/tree-profile-aspen-so-much-more-than-a-tree (2023, February)

Church of United Skates

I believe God uses everyday life, objects, and circumstances to reveal biblical truth. This happened last Sunday when my husband and I went roller skating.

Our roller-skating outing was a final hurrah before I started teaching again. As we hadn’t been to United Skates in three years, skating was slow going. It took some time to refamiliarize ourselves with movement patterns, balance, and timing. Yet it was this snail-like speed that allowed me to observe other skaters.

There were skaters of all kinds. The very young, using skate bumpers to aid their fledgling skating skills. The very old, going slower than me and my husband. Teenagers who were calmly and cooling making their way on the skate floor. The skate rink was home to people of all ages, ethnicities, and genders. People of all ability levels. People skating to their own rhythm. People crashing at every turn—kids face planting, teenagers taking spills, and adults being taken out by children who hadn’t yet learned how to stop. Yet, all were there for the purpose of having fun and doing something they loved and enjoyed.

Amid this observation, I couldn’t help but think, this is the church. Or rather, the church as Jesus intended it.

Like the skate rink, the church is home to the young, the old, the middle-aged. It’s comprised of people of different genders and ethnicities. People of different socioeconomic backgrounds, education levels, and professions. People who are at different points on their spiritual journey. People who are making strides to improve their lives, and who sometimes crash and burn in the process. The church, the ekklesia, ἐκκλησία, is a gathering of “called out ones.” It’s a meeting brought together by one main purpose—Jesus.

When we look at the gospels and epistles in the New Testament, we discover that Jesus drew people of all kinds. Yet, there is often a disparity between what we see in our churches and what we see in the New Testament. If our churches aren’t mirroring Jesus’ vision, then perhaps we should take our cue from United Skates.

Batteries Included

I was playing* Mouse Trap with my best friends’ 3 ½ -year-old son yesterday. My stepdaughter outgrew this game long ago, but I’ve kept it around for my friends’ kids and it’s been an unexpected hit.

Because it’s plastic and because it’s 8+ years old, the mechanism that deploys the trap is broken. Considering, I have to manually release the trap every time we play. However, the 3 ½ -year-old doesn’t seem to mind. He knows it’s broken, as I’ve explained it to him several times. So, yesterday, when the hippo plunged into the water, and I was late to manually deploy the trap, he said, “Yep, it’s broken. It needs batteries Auntie Jess.” I tried to explain to him that the game didn’t require batteries and therefore couldn’t be fixed with batteries. However, he was adamant, “Batteries can fix it.”

In this moment I realized that for this little guy, all of life’s problems (his toys breaking and/or not working) can be fixed with batteries. In this same moment I thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if all our adult problems could be solved by batteries? And then I thought, maybe they can.

When my husband and I are checking in with each other to see what our emotional, physical, and spiritual energy level is, we use these phrases: “What’s your battery level?” Or “How are your batteries?” With these questions, we’re checking to see if we’re fully charged or depleted. If we’re depleted, we then assess why, and how we can recharge.  

We (my husband and I, and I think everyone), engage life best when we’re fully charged. We get the most out of our experiences, can face tough situations, and are most resilient, when we have full batteries. We bring the best version of ourselves to our relationships, our most creative and hardworking selves to our professions, and our most inspired selves to our interests and passions.

When we’re depleted, life can feel a bit lackluster, less vibrant, heavier, and perhaps even a bit suffocating, like we’re stuck in a mouse trap. When we’re drained, our relationships suffer, our jobs feel burdensome, and our interests and passions wane.

I think the 3 ½-year-old was right. Perhaps all our problems can be fixed with batteries.

*“Playing” is a misnomer. He’s not quite cognitively ready to understand and follow the rules of games, so we engage in dramatic play—we trap the mice, then we use the other animals to rescue the trapped mice. 

The Mother Without A Name

I had the honor of preaching on Mother’s Day last Sunday. This sermon was for all mothers—past, future, and present—including my own mom and all those who have “mothered” me (and still do). May you be encouraged and inspired by the role you play in God’s larger plan.

I start preaching at about the 37 minute mark.