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Gracefully Frank

I’m just one voice in one corner. Some may say my voice is too quiet, not qualified, too privileged, not loud enough. There will always be people who will judge my voice, or the voice of others, and find them greatly lacking. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Or, “You have no right to speak.” The fear of those responses can tempt me to be quiet at times. I can worry about saying what some might think is the wrong thing and stay silent. But, when I look to Jesus and I am most concerned about what He thinks about how I respond as a part of His body, that’s when I begin to find my voice. 

As my Lord, I am accountable to Him. When I lean into Him, He breaks my heart for what breaks His. He has called us through His Word, to love one another (John 15:12), to help carry one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), and to be his light (Matthew 5:15-16) to a world where fear and hatred is spreading. I desire to do that in my everyday life, not just for view of others on Facebook, but this is one place the world watches for followers of Jesus to reflect Him and not be hypocritical or silent. So from my corner, for Jesus, for the love of my brothers created in the image of God with nothing to do about the color of skin and everything to do with the dignity of our shared humanity given us by God the Father who loves us, I believe the murder of George Floyd was a sin against God. We are under attack from an enemy inciting a war. Arrows are aimed in many directions against brothers whom God himself created in His image whatever color their skin may be. Our battle is not with flesh and blood (Ephesians 6:12). It is heartbreaking to consider any line of thought that allows men to shoot someone in broad daylight during a jog, or to put their knee on a man’s neck draining his life from him or any other reckless taking of life that comes from some sense of either entitlement or victimization. 

We have a higher calling of justice. We are accountable to a greater law of love. We must be about protecting life which Jesus died to save regardless of race which God delighted in creating, regardless of our perception of their righteousness or lack thereof, or whether they are peaceful in their pain or acting out in it. We cannot be on sides characterized by the color of our skin when we are under His covering. There is one side: God’s, the Creator of all of heaven and earth. We have the responsibility to respond as He directs and not act in response to those around us trying to direct us according to an earthly agenda. 

But, we must respond. Not by adding fuel to a fire, and pointing out how we think everyone is responding either correctly or incorrectly, but by covering the fire in prayer and in action even from our own corners. Instead of looking at black or white, right or left, look up. Look past sin to the need of a man’s heart. Look at your own heart ... is it growing in love, peace, forgiveness, and empowerment to be the change? Or is it growing in fear, rage and self-righteousness to demand that others change? Who’s voice are you listening to? What are you feeding your soul? George Floyd was my brother under God. I pray for justice for him and I even pray for mercy for the man who took his life. I’m in awe of our God who gives both. I pray the Church will fan the fire of reconciliation which Jesus has already accomplished for us.

No man’s dignity will be raised when another man’s dignity is lowered. Our dignity is God-given not earned or assigned by man. Jesus died for our unity. I don’t know what others have suffered and I will not be condescending to their pain by trying to act as if I do. But, I do know Christ died for and loves all of us and there is no distinction in His eyes. If I follow him, I will naturally fight for my brothers because He fought for us all. I am saying, first to myself even as I hit send on this, to rise up and be the light God has given us where he has put us. Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). I don't know what all needs to be done, but I believe we can start there.

David’s confession and plea for mercy and forgiveness in Psalm 51 has repeatedly come to mind these past several days. David had Uriah murdered to cover up his own adultery with Uriah’s wife. Uriah was innocent, and David killed him. God was as just then as He is now.  David suffered consequences of his great sin, and God was merciful and gave forgiveness in David’s true repentance. It is a forgiveness only possible through God himself when such great injustice has happened. We have a choice to either keep lighting the fires of injustice, constantly pointing it out but not necessarily participating as an agent of change, or bring the rain of mercy through the Love of Jesus Christ to the world that is burning around us. 

We do that practically even today when we post things on social media- are we pouring gas or are we dousing flames? Are we pleading for unity or widening the divide? We do that practically even today when we go to the store, interact with our neighbors, with our families and coworkers. I’m not saying fall back and just let injustice continue for the sake of peace. There is no peace when we let injustice continue. We have to speak up. But, we have to speak up from the starting point of Christ because nothing else unites us like He does. I will not apologize for the race God put me in or for the races He put others in as I believe that He intended to be glorified in all of them. He has great and glorious plans in creating us and none of us had anything to do with our own creation, nor did we begin the divide that separates us now. But, are we working to heal it or start another battle? I will grieve and repent of my sin and my failures to honor Him in my relationships with others, and I will stand against the enemy who continually rages against us to separate us, especially within the Church. Click here to read David's Prayer in Psalm 51

I woke up this morning to a prayer sent to me overnight by my sister in Africa. She messaged, "My dear sister let me pray for you. God kept giving me the burden." I want to share her voice and part of her prayer with you this morning. She and I roomed together several times as we served together in her country. I would wake up each morning between 3 and 4 AM to this voice speaking her prayers out loud for the people and the day ahead of us. This is the love and unity that relationship through Jesus Christ gives us. It has nothing to do with me or her, where we were born, or the color of our skin... our love for one another has everything to do with Him in us. He grows our love for one another. He unites us "across oceans," across state lines, across injustice.  Lord, unite us into one family even today, as we demonstrate your love in our corners across the world, "because of the blood of Christ, we are one family."
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It was May 2019.  I sat in church listening to a sermon that I no longer remember but, I do remember at the end of it the pastor wanted us to do one of those group activities when everyone is supposed to get up and go forward.  To be honest, if I participate at all, I’m usually a reluctant participant in those types of moments. If it’s my genuine heart, I do; if my heart isn’t really there, I won’t. The pastor wanted us to write something we needed to surrender to God on a piece of paper.  I watched as people began to write.  Some started to stand to their feet and take their paper down front where they were supposed to put them somewhere (I don’t remember right now where. Maybe in a bucket?).  I certainly didn’t plan on walking down to the front, but I laid my piece of paper on top of my journal and got ready to write down what has been the most consistent surrender of my life: marriage; and the most painful surrender of my life: having children.  It’s not that those things were even troubling me that day, as we’ve won some battles together in those areas. But, those had apparently become my pat response regarding surrender. My pen was ready to jot down what had become usual, but as it touched the paper I felt a check in my spirit that my status quo was not what I needed to give the Lord. I needed to go deeper. . .

“Will you surrender to me the way that I made you?”  Whaaaat?

Over the next few weeks, I prayed about and considered what that meant. What it meant has marked a significant change, if even sometimes a slow change, for me. I haven’t written about it, but I told God I would be faithful to say it out loud anytime I felt prompted.  He has given me several opportunities to talk one on one with others about this. But, as I am having a much needed slow weekend, guess who is feeling prompted to write it out.   

He asked, “Will you surrender to me the way that I made you?”  And, this is what I came to realize:

First of all, I have been loved and have felt accepted by people and I’m incredibly grateful for the love and acceptance in my life. But, I have struggled with insecurities at times. If you've read my blog or book, if you and I have been the kind of friends that we've ever sat on a couch, in a coffee shop, or in our pajamas as we shared about our lives, you won't be surprised by this.  I think that most people have some insecurity about something. I've struggled with insecurity about my body, my abilities, my singleness for instance. Those are a few examples, but not a complete list.  No matter how many good things we hear, sometimes its the things we don't hear or that one hurtful thing we do hear that sticks with us. Satan fills empty spaces and reminds us of unkindness.

I know Satan is a big name to throw in there.  But, we have been told that he is at the center of distraction and temptation and separation from God. “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8 ESV  He has tried to devour me at times with insecurity.  Maybe he has tried to devour you the same way?  Our battle is not with flesh and blood (whoever has built on our insecurities) (Ephesians 6:12), and it can’t be won with flesh and blood either (approval from others).  It can only be won through the One who has already won the battle.  That’s a lot of “wons,” but stay with me, because the battle is fixing to turn.

“Will you surrender to me the way that I made you?” So - real talk - the most significant personal pain in my life has been centered around rejection and shame. Feeling unlovable and being embarrassed by it.  A lot of what we believe about ourselves is learned at young ages, but the enemy of our souls can jack with us at any age.  Circumstances or people in our homes, our schools, our relationships, our work, or our cultures can begin building insecurities in our lives that left unchecked, uncorrected, or unhealed can begin to sway our confidence or direction.

Right or wrong, who is to blame, who is not to blame --- all of these discussions can be good to work through so we know what "wrong belief" or "insecurity" about ourselves we have been believing.  Where have we been seeing ourselves through the eyes of others instead of through the eyes of God?  It's difficult to practice right beliefs until we can understand how our wrong beliefs developed so we may discredit them.  But, rehearsing or explaining the root of our insecurities to justify them doesn’t make them go away. I think sometimes we spend more time trying to feel justified in our pain, rather than getting set free from it. 

When in my spirit, God asked “Will you surrender to me the way that I made you?” he was asking me to surrender my insecurities.  I've learned that anything He asks me to surrender, has been worth it. My insecurities are at times the main distractions for me to serve Him unabashedly and trust him fully.  “But, I’m NOT this or that.”  “I’m too this or that.”  “You haven’t given me this or that, so I am lacking this or that.”  I have won many battles in this area before as he has helped me fight through fear and disappointments. He has been patient and faithful and compassionate, but when he asked me this question, he was preparing to turn the tables of insecurity on me a bit. 

As I started down this trail with God in my time with Him, in His word and in discussion with Him (prayer), He gave my insecurity a new name: vanity. He has told me who I am in Him. He has been revealing my identity in him. So as I bring old struggles of insecurity into new life, it’s no longer a wound to pet; it’s a sin to confess. I’m not rejected. I’m not unloved. I’m being vain. I’m over-regarding myself, too focused on how I am viewed. Worried about things I would gently refer to as insecurities, that He was asking me to confess as vanities.

Insecurity is a pain I struggle with.

Vanity is a sin I confess and Jesus sets me free of.  

Instead of falling to the temptation to rehearse cruel words, rejections, unkindness, and pain and then asking God to heal me, I realized I needed to begin seeing how that pain had ultimately led to my own sin.  In confessing insecurities as vanity, I could be set free instead of just being helped along.

Jesus can relate to being rejected and shamed.  He isn’t saying “suck it up Haley; quit being such a self-centered jerk.” But, I believe through the evidence of His life, His Word, and His Spirit in me, he is saying, “I know, Haley. Forgive. Lay it down. Confess how that pain has led to your own sin, and let me cleanse you of it.”

We can strive. We can get new clothes, new friends, new hair, new jobs, new accomplishments, new self-help books on insecurity. People can try to convince us we are loved and appreciated.  For every rejection, we can have 100 acceptances, but that will continue to grow our dependence on people and circumstances to heal.  People and circumstances do not win soul battles. Jesus does.

Honestly, I have graciously had a lot of compassion and encouragement in my life. But for this, I needed the Holy Spirit's conviction and the freedom found when I take it to Jesus and ask him to clear away the vanity. 

"Yes, God. I will surrender to You, the way You have made me."

Soon after this realization began, I had to practice this change in context. We’ve been doing new initiatives at the ministry where I work that has involved video production.  I’ve been asked to be a part of some of these projects, and if you have been following my blog over the years, or read my book, you know my answer to being involved has been “Yes, Lord.”

As I would get up in the morning before taping and the struggle would begin, feeling like I didn’t have the right clothes, or my hair was frizzy, or my skin not clear, or my presentation too “Haley-ish” instead of professional, or that I am not capable enough to be in this position … I would stop and confess that “insecurity” as “vanity.” That sin of vanity was building a wedge between me and where God was asking me to be. I still want to be the best of how he made me. I didn't throw my curling iron away, stop shaving, and wear sweats to work. And, I’m not walking around now mondo-cocky that I'm a daughter of the King and I'm perfect as-is.  I don't want to be insecure OR over-secure. I want to be well with myself, others, and with Him, in my soul.

There are days this is easier and days this is more difficult. But, He has spoken into this area of my life and now I do have a new fight plan.  Or rather, a new flight plan for this Sky God is asking me to fly through. He heals us of our pain and cleanses us of our sin. Accepting His compassion for my pain is easier than accepting his rebuke for my sin.  But, where His compassion brings me comfort and encouragement, His rebuke cleanses and empowers me.  His question and help are changing me.

What wound are you petting?

I’m not saying you’re wrong for being hurt by your wound, so just change your perception of it.  I am suggesting you consider what response in you has that wound developed? 

  • How are you coping with the pain? 
  • How are you justifying your response? 
  • How is your current course of behavior motivated by it? 
  • Has the enemy tempted you to sin because of it? 
  • Have you become envious, gluttonous, greedy, lustful, prideful, slothful, vengeful, or even vain? I have at times.
Satan takes our weakness, our wounds, our pain and tempts us into deeper pits of our own making while we feel justified by pain.

Jesus takes our weakness, our wounds, our pain and tells us to forgive. He sets us free of it, instead of enslaving us to it. He tells us no-one can define who we are except for the Father, our Creator.   In human terms think . . . “no one puts Baby in a corner.” 

“God, I surrender the way you made me. I surrender any feelings of rejection, shame, or injustice that I have let become part of my identity.  I surrender to you whatever notions of lacking that are coming on me. The truth is, I lack everything, and have only what you have given me. It won’t be my wisdom, my words, my body, or my clothes that will accomplish what you’ve asked me to accomplish. It won’t be by might nor by power, but by Your Spirit. Forgive my vanity. Cleanse me. Thank you, Lord for your compassion and conviction to care for me and transform me. Now, let’s get on with it. In Jesus' name, Amen.”

One fear I have in posting this is the friends who will hold me accountable to this when I start to rehearse old news. Thank you, Jesus, for those friends.  I hope, if you've read this and can relate at all, you find some friends who are a little mouthy like mine. Sit next to them, drink a little coffee, and talk about good things to come.
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Today is an anniversary for me. “Land & Sky” came out one year ago today. (insert party emoji here)  It seems like it only takes about six months for a year to actually cycle, so it came up quick and I forgot to remember. But, now I remember, and it’s so sweet to think back on getting through the writing, the editing, the launching, the celebrating.  Won’t God do everything He asks of us? I hope at least one of you can say "amen."

Some of you have shared with me how my story encouraged you to be brave, or step out in faith, or consider where God has been leading, or is leading you to, or through.  He is the big common denominator for all of us.  He IS. And He is at work.  He gave me the help needed, the time needed, and the method needed even in the midst of all of my objections or fear of rejections. I wondered – Will this be laughed at? Will this be small?  Will this be big?  Will only my people read it?  Will millions of people read it?  Will it get me fired or hired? Is it too vulnerable? Is it not vulnerable enough?  Once I laid down all of those questions and just started to do what He had been whispering for me to do, then, it came together.

One thing I have learned is we don’t have to worry about what God will do with our offering.  Once we give it to him, it’s his. Big or small.  He will send the sun and the rain to make it grow however He wills.  Such freedom to just say yes. I’m thankful for what He has done with this little book.  If you’ve read it, thank you. If you’ve shared it, thank you. If you’ve reviewed it, thank you. 

While the launch of the book was coming together, I was in early discussions about taking a different position with the ministry I work for.  Things were getting clear and the road to Texas was opening up again.  “Lord, I literally just wrote a book with a chapter called ‘Home Sweet ‘Homa’ giving you praise for letting me move back home, and now you are calling me back to Texas?” He was, and I did. 

I had actually, and literally, just written a book about saying yes to the Lord and how He is at work in our lives and how we can follow His lead, trusting that He is good.  So, I shed a few tears and began packing up my house and putting it on the market. In February, I moved back down here to Texas.  Big Sky Texas.  I’m settled in, and I continue to love the work He has called me to. No regrets. Only thankfulness.

He let me have home and some sit still time to pull the last few years and blogs and plans together into one place and testify to His faithfulness. Then, He brought me back down here to live what is in store next. It was tender, but I wasn’t dragging my feet this time, and my yes is a lot stronger than it used to be. 

Did you read His story in this book?  Has He whispered anything to you?

I hope so.

And, I hope you have had the courage to

step out or

rise up or

let go

or hold on

as He has led you.

He is faithful.

Believe and See. 

I am, all over again.


Click here to go to "Land & Sky" on Amazon available in Paperback and Kindle. 
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“Peace be to the brothers, and love with faith, from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible.” Ephesians 6:13 

I remember walking into my office one day, several years ago, and finding a copy of “The Economist” magazine on my desk. My boss had put it there hoping it would take root. God had given him a mind for business to go with his heart for Christ. He studied the economies of people groups. He said if you understand their economy you understand the people. I think there is probably a lot of truth to that, but that is not specifically the mind God gave me to go with my heart for Christ. I think I read one article though, just to pour a little water on that seed he tried to plant to see if maybe it would grow. It didn’t really. 

Around that time, I had an upcoming month-long trip that was to include two opposite climates, three different continents, four different languages, many different people of varying socio-economic backgrounds, and one me: a girl with white skin from Oklahoma Southern Baptist land who was still giving it all she had to just walk onto the airplane. That was back when I traveled alone for many of our missions, and although my conviction outweighed my lack of courage I was still dragging one foot as I was trying to lift off. Time and emotion literally would not allow me to read enough magazines and books on the histories and economies of cultures so vastly different from my own to adequately understand them. And yet, by God’s grace, I would be standing in front of them in just a few weeks trying to teach and share with them what He was equipping and leading me to teach and share. Who is the smartest person you know? Even if I had been them, I’m not sure I could have become a cultural expert in time to make everything I said culturally relevant to them. 

As I entertained thoughts of insecurity, inadequacy, and inability He reminded me of His calling to “feed His sheep” because I loved him. He hadn’t called me to become culturally relevant, He had called me to become Christ-centered in my life, through the ministry of counseling, and wherever He leads. Christ is the one who is culturally relevant. As I center on Him, read about Him, apply Him – the message He wants me to share will be applied culturally by the Holy Spirit who is the one who is the cultural expert. I don’t share or teach as a white Baptist female from Oklahoma, I share and teach as a follower of Jesus Christ. 


“And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 

The only kink in that plan is: I can’t make that decision, as Paul did, for the people He calls me to. 

I know for certain there have been times and places where people could not hear what I had to share because they immediately disqualified me from having anything applicable to them based on my own demographics or lack of cultural experience. She is a woman. She is white. She is American. She is not from here. She is not married. She is not a mother. She does not have a Ph.D. By some, I get sized up by either what I am or what I am not and they determine in advance to either listen or tune out. I know for certain this has happened because some people have been bold enough to speak their disqualifications out loud to a room full of people after I called on them for raising their hand. After I shared something that maybe didn’t sit well with them personally they would say: … “yes, but here…” or “this is just how it is here in our culture…” They would give themselves an out from conviction based on their assumption that what I was teaching was not culturally relevant to them, instead of accepting possible conviction from being taught what was Christ-culturally relevant. 

At first, though, those comments were intimidating to me because they fed right into the same insecurities I was saying to the Lord. “Why me?” “Shouldn’t someone else be doing this?”  But, the more those questions came up, the more I had to face them. I had a choice: either let those “you don’t know our culture” comments drive me home or let His Spirit and sharing His hope drive me forward. Once I was committed, He grew my courage and put words on my tongue because He is faithful. They were busy looking at me instead of listening for Him. I could have recognized that potential distraction and chosen to stay home, or I could keep saying yes to the One who kept sending me. One option had me bowing to a culture; the other had me bowing to the Lord. I decided to embrace the conflict instead of being offended by it, and use it as an opportunity to redirect.

I’ve come to expect this type of push-back in almost every country, and I’ve come to hope it comes sooner than later so we can get past it. “You are right. I don’t know your culture. I’m not here as an expert on your culture. You are the experts who must listen for the Holy Spirit to know how to apply. I am here because you have said your families and homes are hurting and you want to help them. I’m here because that is my calling, too. God has called me to help you know better how to apply His Word to your everyday lives. Once you know what His Word says, you have the opportunity to realize if you have been handling your circumstances, no matter how trivial or traumatic, in accordance to Him or in contradiction to Him. Then you have a choice to keep doing things as you have always done them or begin following Christ in whatever area of conviction you find yourself facing. That goes for me, too.” 

Once the cat is out of the bag, and we are all on the same page that I am not there to tell them their business, but to help them consider His business, then we have the opportunity to discuss where we may be elevating or enslaving ourselves to our cultures and histories rather than elevating or serving Christ. I say we because my culture is smack dab in the middle of needing to ask ourselves this as well. The ministry of counseling is a lot about our well-being, and our well-being is a lot about our expectations and the “outs” we give ourselves out of sympathy or entitlement as we fight surrendering our human and uncertain will to the good and loving will of the Father in our hearts, our homes, and our cultures. I’m thankful for every opportunity to clear the air and say out loud what is sometimes difficult to say so that we can get to the meat of what He is doing in bringing us together. The friends I have served with over these years have had the opportunity to see Him do some amazing things in hearts and lives.   Obviously not because of who I am or what I know about them, but because of who He is and what He knows about us. 

What if the Corinthians, the Galatians, the Ephesians, the Philippians, or the Colossians had disqualified Paul because he wasn’t from their neighborhood, didn’t look like them, didn’t speak like them. What if the elders in those cities had encouraged ethnocentrism and discouraged listening to Paul? Who are we discrediting because they are not from our neighborhood? What pastor or teaching do we consider different than us, so we can’t hear what they say? Are you feeding into this in your neck of the Church? Or are you feeding into what Scripture says: that under Christ we are brothers and sisters. Our relevance is about His blood, not the skin or location He put us in. 

God created diversity and we are created in His image. We should live out His ordination of the culture we are born into. Celebrate our cultures, be aware of and embrace our differences, share our perspectives our music our meals our sorrows and our joys because through Christ we are united. We don’t have to all start walking and talking the same, but our walk and our talk should look more like Christ whatever language we speak or shoes we wear. 

Honor and celebrate the cultures God created us in, but don’t bow to them. We are not meant to be lorded by our culture. We are to glorify God in our culture and be lorded by Christ.  I don’t think God would have created them if He didn’t take delight in the many different cultures He’s made. I think He maybe drinks Turkish coffee in the morning, enjoys a meal stewed in rich curry, and occasionally hosts a fish fry that I am sure my Grandpa Corky contributes to. If he has a hat rack I bet a dhaka, a yarmulke, and a cowboy hat all hang from it. Do you think he calls it soccer or futbol? I imagine the harmony of an African choir gives him goosebumps and prayers whispered in underground churches in Asia sets him on His feet. The saints, who have sat in pews around this nation and prayed for their grandchildren, whatever the name on the door of the church, have His attention. He wouldn’t enter into dreams of those in lands of sand who have a pure heart to know God if he had one millisecond of concern about culture.  He died for those He loves, but many times instead of operating out of that love we busy ourselves with rather or not someone understands where we are coming from, instead of listening to what God may teach us about where we could be going. The Gospel doesn't come from our own perspective -- it comes from His. 

God has given me the opportunity to face this perspective in many places and I’m sharing it out loud as a couple of recent conversations have prompted me to put this into words. If we focus on teaching “to” a people instead of teaching “on behalf” of the Savior we are coming from the wrong perspective. If we demand to be taught from our own perspective instead of from Christ’s perspective we may be disqualifying the called and perpetuating the division we claim is the problem in the Church. Is your culture the “most” thing about you? Or, is Jesus? Your answer to that will either bring us closer together or separate us further. 

Is my love for Christ incorruptible and unifying, or cultural and dividing? What is yours?

Writing today had me thinking of that particular trip that was coming up after "The Economist" was intentionally laid on my desk and I had to really think about from where my strength, wisdom, and perspective needed to come. Here are some of my favorite pictures from those three continents. Vastly different people and places - one consistent unifying hope. 















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Tom was a pyramid.  He stood taller than any other man in the room.  His presence was big and interesting.  He had long course gray hair bound in a ponytail down his back and flowing freely in a beard down his chest. (Pyramids don't have beards, but maybe you can roll with the imagery?) His arm tattoos were a bit faded and covered by hair. He wore suspenders and walked with a cane.  He also had a reserved smile and friendly laugh.  His presence reminded me a bit of my Uncle Bob and Uncle John Perry wrapped into one.  We were both obviously very far from where we came from, and even with our stark differences, he was familiar to me.  I started a conversation with him at the gate where we waited to board the same plane from Cairo, Egypt to Aswan.  He traveled by himself, but we were kind of there together.


Tom was from Vegas but had been just about everywhere in the U.S. He drove for a living but had done a lot of things for work. "Oklahoma City? I know that city well.  When tornados destroyed part of Frontier City I lived there for months helping rebuild it." The ease of our conversation settled quickly that we were friends.

Over the course of the next couple of days, I saw Tom several times as he kind of rose above other tourists and could be spotted among statues carved in stone.  He had a personal guide for his "trip of a lifetime." He was loving every minute of it.  "It's hard for me to get around, but I am loving every minute of it." When I would spot Tom at the next stop on the mandatory site-seeing agenda, I would walk to him to get his latest report on how things were going.  The ruins of ancient temples for gods with birds for heads were very interesting. I loved seeing the history of man and sorting through in my head and heart my so small place and God's incomprehensive greatest throughout time, but I watched also for Tom, my friend.  I've watched my Dad all my life seek out and visit with the Tom's he met. It's him in me that enjoys hearing the stories of men like Tom.

As my friends and I arrived at the airport to fly back to Cairo, I looked across the gate and saw Tom sitting with three men who turned out to be from Georgia. I had a lot in common and in purpose with those three wise men (if you will). Tom was not lacking in conversation or company.  As he traveled around Egypt solo he was not alone.

As all of the passengers on our plane deboarded in Cairo and made our way to retrieve our luggage, I found Tom standing next to me again.  We determined this was our final stop to share.  He was flying home through New York, and I was headed to Abu Dhabi. After a handful of friendly conversations in a land so far from our homes, I reached into my bag and pulled out my card.  I started to hand it to him and said, "Tom I work for a ministry and if there is ever a time I can pray for you I would love to. I've enjoyed our visits..." As I finally raised my face to see his I could see we were not going to end on a high note.  The friendly face I had seen several times over the past few days had a look of disgust on it. With a tight anger he said, "Well this here is where me and you disagree." And he turned his face from me because he couldn't even look at me anymore.   I said, "Ok, Tom. It was just on my heart to give that to you." I put my card back in my bag and turned to walk away.  With the soft voice of my friend returning, he said: "Haley you have a safe flight home." I said, "you too, Tom," and walked back toward my friends.

I had not hurt Tom.  I had not rejected him, made him feel less than, judged him, talked bad about his momma, disregarded him, or tried to force him to believe.  Not that I haven't ever done those things to others, but I hadn't to Tom.

But, someone had.

Was it a long time ago?  Was it his family?  Was it people in his community?  Was it an ex-wife?  A loss he couldn't understand?  A hope that was never realized? A disappointment that was crushing and he blamed God? Were the "Christians" he met unkind, angry, judgemental of his sin instead of encouraging of his freedom? Had anyone loved Tom like Christ wants us to?

Or, did the look on his face develop in more recent times?  Has he been watching the news?  Has he heard those who attack and lie about Christianity; or those who proclaim to be Christian but have gone beyond speaking God's truth to spewing constant hatred?  It could not have been me that made Tom's face turn to disgust, not because I'm not capable of that, but just because literally we didn't have time or interaction to warrant it. Maybe someone had tried to conform Tom to their own conviction/religion/righteousness instead of taking Tom to Jesus. Maybe that had grossed Tom out so bad that he had to turn his face away from me.  Maybe Tom had confused a follower of Christ, imperfect and prone to try to prove ourselves, with The Christ who loves him so completely. Maybe you've confused those of us imperfect and prone to try and prove ourselves with Jesus, too.

Whatever Tom's frustration that led him to be disgusted by me, God knows.  God sees past Tom's hurt and actions.  I know because God has seen past mine so many times.  For a minute lets pull up to the 30,000 foot cruising altitude and look for God in these scenes that took place along the banks of the Nile...

There Tom was in Egypt and nosey me who thought he looked a bit like home and kind of like my uncles building a greater level of compassion and interest in him, kept stepping into his path.  Three men who know God sat surrounding him in the little airport in Luxor with a couple of hours till lift off. Tom was being pursued, and not by me just to be clear, but by the One who knows why Tom was grossed out by my offer to pray for him.  Someone knows the reason Tom's heart is hard toward that final conversation I tried to have with him, and that Someone followed him even to Egypt. Someone loves Tom and heard whoever has prayed for him.  Maybe it is his family, maybe a neighbor, maybe one of his children keeps praying for Tom's heart to soften.  On their prayers, God is still moving.  I've prayed that God would keep sending others to Tom.  I've prayed God would send Tom a Herman Forrest.  The man whom God sent to lead my Grandpa Corky to Christ while sitting on the front porch drinking coffee one Christmas Eve morning.  Pa respected Herman, and although many had planted seeds for so many years, it was Herman who got to reap the harvest that morning. It was time. Maybe Tom's time is coming.  Maybe your time is coming?

I could have read Scripture to Tom, tried to wow him with smarty theological talk, I could have threatened him with Hell if he didn't repent and change his ways. I could have called him a fool for not believing. I could have walked away from our interactions feeling pretty self-satisfied that I had been so "bold" as to ask him if I could pray for him.  None of those things are what made Tom's voice soften in his last words to me.  It was the attention and love that God had put in my heart for him that made Tom second think his angry tone. God was carving the stone of Tom the Pyramid's heart with love, His most effective tool.  God had offered me the opportunity to be part of showing that love for a minute one time in Egypt.  So many times I fail. I think more about the reactions of the Toms, or of my own agenda for my day or my life.  Or, I measure if they love me or not before I choose to show them love.  On and on and on. Time wasters.

Love one another.  Not enable one another.  Not be fake to one another.  Not pretend so you look good to one another. Love one another, as Christ loved us all the way to the cross and then "up from the grave He arose, (He arose)."  Let your love be what softens their tone, so you can show them where your love comes from and Who your love represents... said me to myself over and over and over when I am tempted to do just the opposite.

"This is how God showed His love among us:  He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.  This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.  Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us." John 4:9-12.

"Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Find out more about this love this weekend for Easter, when Love literally nailed it.  If you can't attend church somewhere many churches offer online services.  You can check out the services at my church at www.north.church.
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Even the sun realizes it’s impossible to shine at 5am. With sleepy eyes and dragging feet, I lugged my suitcases, much lighter than when I arrived, down the steps of the little upstairs apartment that has been home for a few days, toward my friends and their car that would take me to the airport. It’s the day to leave. It feels like I’ve been gone longer than the number of days passed would suggest, but it has been a blessed and encouraging time in Cuba. 

It was too dark outside to capture any of the moments passing outside my non-rolling-down window. I would say 74.2% of the pictures I take are from the seat of a car outside a window on our way to the next training or visit. I like capturing moments of real life in the places the Lord takes us. I try to keep my phone balanced on the window sill of the door and subtly snap the shot. Many are blurry, but some bring the life on the side of the road into focus. 

As we drove to the airport we passed a scene that has come to mind often since leaving. On top of a small cement-block home with bars on the windows was a wooden manger covered with rows of Christmas lights. It was maybe 6ft wide and 4ft tall. I’m not a good judge of that kind of thing, but it was not super small. Inside the stable scene where you would expect to see the people of the nativity there where 3ft tall figures made out of hard plastic and fading color with mainly only the red of their clothes still visible. 

It wasn’t Jesus. There was no Mary or Joseph. The only figures inside the stable were two wise men. My assumption is that over the years the other figures must have been broken or lost somehow and had been irreplaceable. My friend told us that for many years there were no Christmas decorations available in the country.  They could only decorate inside churches and, just like their cars, they could only use what Christmas decorations they already had before the revolution.  But on the roof of the home we drove by, even with the figures that were lacking to fulfill the full nativity scene, all of the same care and work of putting up those decorations had been given. They only had two wise men, but they proudly and reverently put those guys up there to shine brightly into the night. Anyone who saw them shining would know the Holy Night and the birth of our Savior that they represent. The people who slept under the roof below made the best and brightest of what they had been given, and their joy multiplied at least to me, and probably to many others.

Taking some liberties with their story here, I imagine their kids and grandkids still loved to see those two wise men lit up in all their faded plastic glory at Christmas. Having come to know more about the heart and the spirit of the Cuban people, I imagine they didn’t take much time to regret the figures that had been lost over the years. I imagine that the contented sigh and thrill of the moment those two light up is still as sweet as it ever was, year after year.

I have been given much and I am missing much. Probably most of anyone reading this could say the same no matter what their nativity scene looks like as people pass by it in cars on the street. But, you guys, at the very least, I certainly have two wise men. Probably most of anyone reading this could say the same. I am so thankful to climb up on the rooftop of the life I’ve been given and string up the lights around the stable and excitedly plug in all I have to shine brightly into the dark to represent the scene of the One I worship and adore. 

Maybe you only have two wise men. Maybe you have two wise men, a donkey, and Mary. Hopefully, you have Jesus. Whatever you have, practice plugging in what is yours and shine brightly.  

After leaving Cuba I met a colleague in Washington D.C. to talk about sharing hope in her country. I would have met her anywhere the Lord made available, but it was here. I’ve always wanted to come here. I had one full day and a few intermittent hours one evening and one morning to plug in my own two wise men and delight in what I have been given. I am so incredibly delighted to have visited here and so incredibly thankful to be on my way home.  Here are a few moments from the past couple of weeks...

Sunrise over OKC.







This is the first church we visited.
Their Christmas Pageant was held the night before we began. 

The church in Havana.






The night I arrived in D.C. it was snowing.  It was so beautiful!



Arlington National Cemetery


From the Museum of the Bible.

The White House.
Merry Christmas, friends.  Plug in your nativity.  Celebrate the Savior and all you've been given in this life, no matter what may seem to be missing.  Don't miss all the lights that are burning for the few that have gone out or may have never been lit (said a good friend one time).  Shine Brightly.  

Usually, there is one song that ends up being the theme song for each journey.  A few days before I left home this song came to mind, and I've played it (and prayed it) on repeat for most of the trip.  If you want to hear a beautiful song, that goes with this time and these pictures you can listen by clicking this link:
Thank you, Jesus, by Hillsong Worship
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I woke up just before my alarm went off at 3 am this morning, and I was so glad it didn’t jar me out of a dead sleep.  It’s always better when I’m able to drift back to awake.  As soon as I opened my bedroom door the smell of Folger’s classic roast hit me in the face and I was thankful for a coffee pot that can be programmed the night before. What an unnecessary and wonderful invention.  I filled the cup (also programmed the night before), and went back to a little table with an old lamp and half burnt candle, and opened the Word that would give me strength for this day and undoubtedly the days to come. The ribbon bookmark was holding the page for Luke 20:41-47.  Jesus answered a lot of questions with questions. Although he knew the answers to the questions, he chose to respond to the motives of the person/people who were doing the asking.  He knew why they asked.  He knew what they were trying to get at. He knew when it was hurt, fear, doubt, or pride that motivated their questions.  He’s still good at that. He knows why we have questions.  He’s not afraid to answer them as he reveals our motives and calms and heals the sometimes thinly veiled heart of our question.  Reading Luke’s letter to a man named Theophilus to explain what and who Jesus was and is, is a great place to watch what Jesus did and why. If a respected doctor you knew wrote you a letter about some pretty amazing things that were going on, would you read it?  Would you save it?  Would you share it?  Theophilus did.

-------

That was the only paragraph I wrote before this trip that I’m at the conclusion of as I type this from window seat 25A pointed against the wind toward the east coast of America.  Sixteen days feels a lot longer than it looks on the little calendar on my phone.  It usually does when I’m so far from home.  My first stop was to meet up with a colleague, who has become a good friend after several years of working and traveling together. Our planes from different countries landed thirty minutes apart in an old city in Europe where I never imagined going and now have been several times.  I know what train to get on for the city center, which Cathedral is my favorite, and where to get an amazing cup of coffee in a beautiful little pot.  No one there recognizes me or knows my name, but I know my own little bit about their city.  Our walk around plan prior to our next flight was cut short after some undesired but welcome intel, but it was good to have a little extra time to nap off jet lag before the next leg of the journey.

We left Europe for Western Asia where more friends with multiple accents, cultures, and histories gathered. It was the first time to have plans with one set of accents.  At the conclusion of four days together Hope and friendships had grown.  One man said he did not know I was a woman when he agreed to join us, and he was disappointed on our first day to find me as such.  He has been a shepherd of people for many years and said he did not think learning from me would be possible.  “But,” he said with a smile, “this week has proven that with God all things are possible.”  *gulp* God has led me to lay down many notions in many nations, and I fully believe that, too.  I appreciated his gracious frankness.  God is more than we think and faithful to accomplish everything he says he will do.  He was faithful to me and my friends, for our good and his glory.  Then. Sings. My. Soul.

We took a day off in which I took two naps during what was a more than welcomed rainy day. Then we began five days with a different set of accents that I’ve come to be familiar with over the last several years.  I still can not begin to comprehend their words or their lives.  But, I know Who knows them.  And He brings us together to share a few moments of our lives with each other. It’s a mystery to me, but being convinced of his Presence, his power, and his goodness we come together in his name.  No. Turning. Back.

My friends with many accents have lots of questions that in our moments together God gives us a special freedom to discuss. The very nature of our conversations to be prepared to help one another allows it to be a safe place to pose some lingering, sometimes previously unspoken, thoughts. I’ve asked a lot of questions over the years, too. I’ve asked who and what and when and where and how. I’ve debated.  I’ve tried to trap him with his own Word…” but you said, so shouldn’t you…” I’ve reasoned.  I’ve thought I was so smart.  So sure. Until these recent years when I dug in, began letting go, and committed to stop asking so many questions and just start saying yes.

Sometimes saying yes has led me to be hurt, rejected and ignored. I sneak a few questions in during those times…. “why, again?” My life does not fit into any reasonable (in my understanding) box and sometimes, even in my gratitude, that makes me feel like such a weirdo.  I think Jesus knows my motive when I ask him why. Whether hurt, fear, doubt, or pride, he seems to be more interested in my heart and motives than answering my questions.  As he forms my inner being from one degree of glory to the next, my momentary questions take a backseat to my resolve to trust this Shepherd who is my one constant. I have so little to give. Only my whispered, sometimes anxious yes, but then he tears down walls and grows gardens with it.  When I take my eyes off him I sink like a rock into doubt. But when my eyes are on him I see mountains and oceans and tears and smiles and lands and sky.  I hear hearts and accents and whispers of the way to walk and praise. He gives so much with just a yes. Which convinces me to give the next yes.

On my way home this time, he gave me a wee bit of Ireland.  Two and a half days with my friend to walk where streets do have names in Dublin. To ride a big Touristy McTouristan tour bus across the isle to see the Cliffs of Moher and Galway and green and rocks and rain and blue sky.  I’ve dreamed of going to Ireland since I was a little girl and always requested bedtime stories about rainbows and leprechauns. Deep in my gut, there has always been a wanting to go back to the land where my grandpa’s grandpa, Thomas Scully, left home and country to come to America. I learned a lot more about the potato famine and the struggle for Catholics like my ggGrandpa Thomas during the mid-1800s and what may have led him to leave. Whatever he hoped for his generations to come as he left, I hope a piece of that was realized as I arrived back there this week. Either in his desperation or courage, or possibly both, He did us good.  And though no one there knew, I carried his name and blood back to that rocky soil. I usually leave pieces of my heart on each land I step, but in Ireland, I found pieces of my heart already there waiting for me.

----

Here are a few pictures as I continue to document this journey.  For so many years there were no pictures of my life as it seemed to me there was nothing to note. I had such specific ideas of what was noteworthy. The enemy of my soul had me so wrapped up in distrust and disappointments to distract me from the beauty of the life I have been given.  I don't finally have pictures to take because there are more places and faces in my life, but rather I have more pictures to take because in changing my heart the Lord drastically changed my ideas of what is noteworthy.  That change in gratitude literally opened up the world for me to be grateful. Maybe still a bit of weirdo to my own set of well-founded, very logical cultural expectations... but, a weirdo on purpose because I consider him faithful who promised to have plans for me in following him. Not because of who I am, but because of who he is.  He knows my name, and he knows your name; he is the same for me as he is for you.  It just depends on rather or not we are willing to say yes or if we allow the trees to block our view of the beautiful forest before us.


Driving out of Dublin along the River Liffey.

The Long Room at Trinity College.




At the Cliffs of Moher.




At St. Nicolas' Cathedral in Galway.

Our tour guide, also Nicholas, and another view inside the church.  

Galway street band.

Dublin breakfast and coffee.

Eighty-six year old Irma from Boston, now living in Las Vegas because she "sold her snow shovel" was my seatmate for a bit of our tour around Dublin.  She was traveling Europe solo after her granddaughter's wedding in England. "We'll always have Dublin."

This was a little museum that I will say was the definition of the word charming.  The tour guide was singing us a song.  

A handwritten sermon from the mid 1700s in St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin.

"Roll of the Knights of the Most Illustrious Order of Saint Patrick"



And Tom Scully, born in Waco, TX, died in Henryetta, OK, and filled a whole life in between.  He was an Irish son, husband, father, coal miner, and butcher.

His father, who passed away at age 48 when Tom was 2 years old, would have walked some of these same streets in Dublin, where several of his generations to come have now returned with his name and in his honor. 
-----
Plans for me have included quite a bit of wandering, but, wait for it... 

I am not lost.
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