Day Three: The A-Team

At dinner tonight, my friend Tori was telling us about her family’s “ranking” system (that’s all in good fun, of course). She explained that when they travel, each member is given a spot on a team from A to F. Jokingly, she remarked that her sister would not be on the A Team because she wouldn’t take a 5:45 a.m. flight (which is exactly what me and my parents did this morning).

While heading to the airport at an ungodly hour certainly does not deem one’s potential, it does reflect a hard fact of life: sometimes being on the A Team of our family (or any community, for that matter) means doing things we frankly don’t want to do.

Galatians 6:9 reads, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Selfishly, I think about my own personal harvest to reap. Looking out for number one, as I often say. But we’re called to do good. Good for ourselves, yes. But good for those around us. That deserves way more praise than catching a plane.

Day Two: What did I get myself into?

Y’all, it’s Day 2 of Lent. Why am I already asking myself this question? Let’s examine:

  1. I’ve procrastinated. I always have grand ambitions of being someone who queues up their posts, delivering devotionals dutifully with punctuality and reliability. Yet, here I am, well into the evening, cranking out something…anything…because time’s a-ticking, and I’m unprepared.
  2. I’m overwhelmed. Currently, I’m in the midst of packing for a trip, wrapping up work, and juggling fourteen other extracurricular tasks that need my attention before I leave. Actually, I take this one back. EVERYONE is overwhelmed. Please ignore my complaints.
  3. I’m tired. This vacation I’m leaving for in the wee hours of the morning is not just any vacation — it’s a half-marathon. Physically, I’m drained from trying to squeeze in last-minute runs. And emotionally, I’m exhausted from the anxiety of “what if’s”: what if I get sick or injured, what if I don’t finish the race, etc.

I feel like I could keep going, but frankly, I don’t want to. I read this list and yes, I acknowledge that these are legitimate claims. But I’m doing this Lenten practice for something greater than my own satisfaction. Lent is about journeying to the cross and surrendering our need for control, for comfort. It’s a time to grow closer to God and let the noise of everyday life fall quiet.

Proverbs 3 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make straight your paths.” I don’t know what I got myself into, but I know that after 40 days, I don’t believe I’ll be thinking about my procrastination or overwhelming feelings or tiredness.

This the path…okay, let’s go.

Day One: Ash Wednesday

I am blessed by a handful of best friends with whom I rarely quarrel. There is, however, a non-negotiable point of contention within one of these relationships: I cannot, under any circumstances, straighten my hair without getting an earful from my college roommate, Julie.

It all began one fateful, Friday night in 2013…I was feeling inspired by Olivia Pope’s sleek Scandal style, so naturally I fired up my straightener I’d recently bought on sale at Sephora and got to work. Confidently cantering into the kitchen, I received words of praise from our other roommates, the three of us immediately scheming about what mischief we could achieve with this new ‘do.

But not Julie. She remained silent, staring across the room, jaw hanging in disbelief, finally mustering out an exasperated, “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Excuse me?” I responded, truly shocked by her dissatisfaction. “WHY would you do this to yourself?” she pressed again, walking over to examine firsthand my insulted handiwork. “I love your curls. How could you risk damaging them like this?”

Now I was the one with the agape mouth. Julie cared deeply…for my curly hair? I mean, I love my curls, truly…but this was as though I’d really done something awful. It was like I’d betrayed her.

“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think one single swoop of a straightener will have any long-term effects,” I reassured her. “I’m pretty sure when I walk outside the humidity will reactivate my curls.” Reluctantly, Julie conceded: “Just…promise me you keep your curls. They are you.”

Reflecting a decade later, I can confirm that my best friend was correct that day. Curls and I are synonymous. However, there’s danger in taking stock in a physical—and fleeting—attribute. Because the reality is, I very well might not have these curls forever. Actually, I certainly will not.

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul explains, “So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.”

I do believe my hair is special. But then I think about my friend going through chemotherapy right now. She didn’t hesitate to receive a potentially life-saving treatment in order to preserve her hair. And I know women whose hair texture changes after having a baby. Do you think they would trade their curls of the past for their child of the present? Absolutely not.

Whether my hair is straightened or bouncy, smooth or frizzy, thick or graying, these curls will inevitably transform into ash one day. I pray that time is far from now, however I take solace in the promise of a heavenly body. Easter is coming because Christ went to the cross and died for our sins. Just as a hairstyle couldn’t separate a friendship, neither can death separate us from God.

Q & A

I’m turning 30 this year. 30! Can you believe it? I sure can’t. 30 always seemed so…old. Okay, maybe not old, but sophisticated. Self-assured. Like I’d have all the answers. Or at least, that I’d stop questioning myself so much.

Alas, with only a few short months left in my twenties, I still have a lot to figure out if I’m going to be completely settled by my birthday in April. What am I to do, dear reader? How will I face such disappointment if I reach this milestone and still feel…lost?

Author Zora Neale Hurston writes, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” I’ve always loved this quote from Their Eyes Were Watching God, but I must remind myself that within any structure of time, we are, in fact, always asking questions and always receiving answers…whether we know it or not. Or even yet, whether we know how to or not.

1 Samuel 1:10-16 says this:

10 In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly. 11 And she made a vow, saying, “Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”

12 As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. 13 Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk 14 and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.”

15 “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. 16 Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”

When Hannah cried out to the Lord for comfort, she was not in a temple. She was not reciting a traditional verse. She was praying in her heart, moving her lips even though her voice could not be heard.

When was the last time you found yourself praying this way? In a moment of desperation? Of frustration or distress? On the contrary, perhaps your joy was so overflowing it transcended vocabulary. Or the Holy Spirit moved faster than your thoughts, inspiring you to pour out your soul akin to Hannah.

Truthfully, I don’t know what my thirties hold, and that terrifies me. I have goals, plans, dreams, and desires, but frequently I find myself just holding prayers of hope in my heart. It’s not always peaceful and it’s assuredly not satisfying…oh how I wish to simply check boxes off a list and not have to wander aimlessly into the future…

But even in this desert of doubt, I cling to what I do know for certain. Just as God is our Alpha and our Omega, he is furthermore our questions AND our answers.

Pour out your souls this year, friends, remembering that “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” In our anticipation, may we have the faith of Hannah’s God, who hears our prayers and remembers us always.

Love and Baseball

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that the Astros won the World Series the evening before All Saints Day. For as long as I can remember, our Father’s Day tradition was to go to a game with my Grandpa, but this summer marked the first time without him. At his memorial service in January, I reflected that there may be no crying in baseball, but I was absolutely going to shed a tear or two when the time came to go without him… Spoiler alert, I wept through the whole thing. And then again at the conclusion of Game 6. And then again in worship earlier this month as the bells of remembrance were tolled. And about a million other instances when I was reminded of the bereavement I have endured this year. 

No, I don’t consider it insignificant that this season of unforgettable baseball aligned with my own personal season of grief. However, for as much pain and anguish “America’s Pastime” has invoked recently, my investment couldn’t have been greater. In a very out-of-character move, I found myself plunging headfirst into all things baseball this year, particularly during the playoffs. Yes, I relished each hard-fought victory, but camaraderie proved to be the biggest selling point. 

The documentary series Welcome to Wrexham explores this intimacy of athletics’ transformative nature. Author Elizabeth Plank was interviewed about the effect of sports in relationships, explaining, “The first guy I asked [what he missed about sports during the pandemic] had a tear go down, and he said, ‘Talking about it with my dad.’”

While my Grandpa would’ve loved to see us win the trophy, the real reason I associate him with baseball is because it was something we enjoyed together. But in his absence, I’ve learned to lean on a new team: the very same people who mourned with me were now the same ones celebrating with me. 

Proverbs 17:17 says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” Spending the last month laughing and screaming and jumping up and down after every major play with my friends and family was more than a thrill…it was a holy form of healing. And like a perfectly round baseball, God’s story of blessing us through his people in times of joy and in times of sorrow is a love that lives forevermore.

Day Forty: Never Ends – Easter

Last night, I didn’t want to fall asleep because I didn’t want to reach Easter. Face-to-face with the grief of losing my grandfather earlier this year—simply put— I was afraid. Afraid I’d weep during the beloved hymn, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.” Afraid I’d see one less spot at our family lunch table and crumple. Afraid I’d be too consumed by heartache and miss the splendor of our first traditional Easter since 2019.

But I woke up this morning, and much to my surprise, I wasn’t afraid.

Yes, a lump was closer to the top of my throat than usual and tears were always just a blink away from falling. However, the heartache of missing all my loved ones who’ve passed on never leaves my thoughts, nor should it. And while the anxiety of proclaiming so publicly our mortality was valid, singing about death’s defeat felt okay. More than okay…it felt normal.

Easter has been a marker of mourning in my mind, whether I care to admit it or not. But my fear was subsided when I realized I’ve been in Easter much longer than this Sunday.

Easter was with me today when I hugged people I haven’t seen in years, but it was also with me when this community was kept alive from our couches on Zoom. Easter was with me when I laughed alongside friends over coffee and cookies as we greeted churchgoers, but it was also with me when I was so lonely and feared I’d never have a community of my own. Easter was with me when I when I heard the magnificent “Hallelujah” chorus among hundreds of other worshippers in the Sanctuary, but it was also with me when I bowed my head to pray quietly for strength last night in anticipation of this day’s significance.

Easter is so much more than the day we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection: it’s our very way of life. Christ’s love doesn’t start and stop on a calendar day. It’s the hope which keeps us moving forward during the hard times and the joy that fills us with gratitude during the good times.

1 Corinthians 13:8 says, “Love never ends.” And neither does Easter.

Day Thirty-Nine: Walking Humbly – Good Friday

I don’t think there’s a single person on this planet who isn’t confused by the Holy Trinity. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost…how are we supposed to actually tell them apart? They’re all equal but also completely different? And if they’re “one,” why is each relationship so vastly unique? How are we supposed to interact with such convoluted beings?

My favorite Bible verse, Micah 6:8, holds the key:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

We’re not meant to figure it out. We’re meant to partner with this magnificent force that guides us toward greatness. And take everything else for what it’s worth: God’s will.

“Rachel, what does this have to do with Good Friday?” one may ask

Because Jesus had a lot of questions, too. He asked God why he had to die. Why his friends abandoned him. Why things couldn’t be easier. Jesus was distraught but he never went out of stride with God. Good Friday reminds us that God feels for us because Jesus lived…and died. His humanity makes him both an example of God’s desire to be with us but also his efforts to relate to us. Jesus suffered because we suffer, therefore God suffers. Good Friday is hard for everyone, but I walk humbly with God knowing he requires nothing more now that his own son endured death so that I may live.

Food for thought: Who is Jesus to you? God? The Holy Spirit?