Why Urban Retreats Matter

I never cease to be amazed at the strength, dignity and perseverance of women who have endured much hardship in this lifetime. I get to know many of these remarkable women through our urban leadership retreats. Some of these women have suffered loss, abuse and loneliness, yet they have become pillars of strength and encouragement to their churches and communities.

Sometimes I wish we could do more to help them carry the load. I know our retreats make a difference, but sometimes I wonder, “What can a mere weekend away do in the scheme of things?”

I was reminded that God uses even the simple things like a retreat-themed t-shirt to help these precious women remember that they are not alone and they are strong in the Lord.

Vicki, one of our faithful retreat participants, recently lost her adult son to a drug overdose. Vicki is a loving mom and grandma who has done so much to help take care of her family and grandchildren. In the midst of this tragedy, Vicki has chosen to stand strong and be fierce in her faith. A few days after her son’s death, she posted this picture (below) on Facebook where she is wearing our retreat “Fierce: Women of the Word” t-shirt. This image speaks volumes of why urban retreats matter. They matter because of women like Vicki. Women who embody what it means to be fierce, empowered woman of God- even in life’s darkest moments.

When our women wear these shirts, it is a visual reminder that they are not alone. They are surrounded by a sisterhood of like-minded women who are united through their faith in Christ. They are reminded that they are stronger than they feel during a moment of crisis or sorrow. They also know that they are a part of a “tribe” that will love them and pray for them.

I am so honored to serve these women through our retreat ministry. May we all be FIERCE through the power of Christ working in us and through us.

What's in a Name?

When I pray for my boys, I pray for the men they will become. I pray that they will be men of integrity and justice. I pray that they will fight for those who are oppressed and speak for those who have no voice. It is this prayer that got me thinking of the name we would bestow upon our third boy.

As we contemplated naming our third born, I gravitated toward the name Caden. It’s Welsh/Irish meaning is “spirit of battle”. As Christians, we know our battle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of sin and the evil one. I pray that as Caden matures, he will battle against the powers of evil- the powers of oppression and injustice.

His middle name, Earl, is in honor of my late Grandpa. Earl means “warrior.” When we think of “warriors” in the traditional sense, we think of fighters- bloodied from battle, aggressive and powerful. But perhaps, there is another way to view “warrior.” What about the man or woman who fights for justice using their words and influence rather than brute strength? What about the person whose care and compassion toward others is so fierce that nothing will get in their way of showing the love of Christ toward their fellow brother or sister? This is the kind of warrior I want to raise. A warrior for the King of Kings.

As it happens, Caden has already proved his warrior-like spirit. When he was born, he had trouble breathing. The doctor thought he might have swallowed some amniotic fluid. In what felt like a deja-vu nightmare (Justus had trouble breathing and spent 12 days in the hospital after he was born), more and more doctors flooded our delivery room and then it was decided to take him to the NICU. Silent tears streamed down my face as I realized what this could mean. I pleaded to hold my baby one last time before they took him away (pictured to the right). After they took him away, I was alone in the room- an empty shell- no baby in my womb or my arms.

But as always, God is in control. A few minutes later our warrior baby was rolled back into my room. Apparently, once they reached the NICU, his breathing became regulated. The doctor and nurses were joking that he was, indeed, a little fighter- living up to his name.

I know this is only one of many battles my son will face. But I take comfort in knowing that God will equip him for each battle he will endure. Not only that, I pray that he will fight on the behalf of others- a warrior for Christ.

In the Dark Watches of the Night

The other night I lay awake with a horrible toothache due to a newly installed crown. I began having my own little pity party for my pregnant self- bemoaning the fact I couldn't take any ibuprofen and the unfairness of tooth pain on top of my other uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms. As I lay there,  I recalled a passage from a book on prayer that spoke of praying through the "night watch." 

When you can't sleep or find yourself awake during the still, quiet hours of the night, you have the opportunity to be in prayer for others who might be lying awake. Those who are in pain or sorrow. Those who weep and feel alone:

"In the middle of the night I pray for those who sleep and those who cannot sleep. I pray for those with fearful hearts, for those whose courage is waning. I pray for those who have lost vision of what could be." (Seven Sacred Pauses,  31).

So I started praying. I prayed for friends I know are going through tough times. Friends battling sickness. Friends struggling with marriage issues. I prayed a general prayer for all who were suffering.

As I lay there in the dark, my own pain began to surface. Not the physical pain in my mouth, but the deeper pain in my heart: the death of a dream. As overjoyed as I am to give birth to a precious baby boy in a few months, there is a fuzzy type of grief that accompanies this joy: a grief that I will never know the delight of a daughter (this is our third and last child). I'm not quite ready to unload all of these emotions in written word yet, but I know that grief and sadness over small "deaths" is a normal part of life and nothing to be ashamed of.

I know of many dear sisters who are grieving the loss of a dream- the loss of a vision they had for themselves, their marriage or their children. 

Maybe you, too, are grieving a personal loss. Maybe your child is getting bullied at school and you feel helpless. Maybe you were passed over for a job you desperately desired and thought God had directed you to. Maybe the marriage bliss you expected when you said "I do" turned out to involve more heartache than you anticipated. Maybe you feel anger at God and this makes you feel even worse.

It's okay. It really is.

It is okay you feel anger. Pain. Sadness. God can handle your feelings and His great mercy, He does not condemn us for our human emotions. He longs to draw us close and hide us under the shadow of His wings (Psalm 91.4).

It is okay to mourn the death of a dream- no matter how "silly" or "unimportant" it may seem to others.

So next time, you find yourself staring at the ceiling during the dark watches of the night, remember others are in the same place you are. You are not alone. God sees you. And He sees all who suffer. Take a few minutes and offer a short prayer for those burdened by grief, pain and sorrow:

"Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend to the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen." (The Divine Hours, 515).