Chapter 2: The "A' Word.

I wrote this blog post 2 days after the election.

I knew I wasn’t ready to share my unfiltered rant with the world but, but I hit post and let it sit live for a few days without anyone knowing (except a few friends I sent the link to) -- because, it felt a little freeing. But, then I decided to delete it and pray about my approach.

I like to think I’m an open-minded person.

That I can get along with those I don’t agree with.

That I seek to see all sides.

But also seek truth.

I’m about to go full bore, open heart on the journey I’ve been on regarding this subject for the past few years.

I’m aware there are several people, friends even who won’t agree.

And all I can say, is I’ve made my peace with the One who holds my heart, part of me seeking truth is choosing to seek it out despite the message I’ve been told since Sunday school.

Something I am called to seek and time and time again I end up in this place.

There is a chance I am wrong.

There is a chance you are wrong.

Jesus has much more to say about pride than of abortion or homosexuality, I just think we have to remember that.

To My Sisters Who Have Had an Abortion or Will...

I am so sorry.

I am so sorry that what I saw before I ever saw you was your belly.

I am sorry that I neglected to think on your life leading up to that walk to the clinic.

To what you’d been through. The pain. The tears. The fear.

I’m sorry I didn’t care.

I am sorry that I didn’t consider what life  would look like for you after birth.

I am sorry that YOU haven’t been seen.

I am sorry for ever casting an eye of judgment.

I am sorry for not practicing empathy.

I am sorry that somehow in the wake of a terrible circumstance you’ve found yourself in that YOU became the problem.

Chosen to carry the weight of a decision that was not all your own.

I’m sorry you were made to feel that it was.

Can I tell you? I SEE you now.

I see you.

You are not a problem.

You are important.

You are valuable.

You are worthy.

And I am so sorry that I or anyone else has made you feel less than that.

To My Brothers and Sisters of the Faith….

I love you.

We share a bond beyond this world and as I’ve listened to you, cried with you, prayed with you, sat at your table, rocked your babies and loved you, please, please hear me.

I’m not asking you to change your mind, that’s between you and the Lord.

I am asking you to seek Him on this, to wrestle, to question.

If that is a new concept for you - questioning Him, I’d encourage it all the more.

I am a skeptic by nature and I cannot tell you how much it has shaped me as a person, the nights of whys and the I don’t get this or that's.

He meets us there. He listens. He guides.

So here we are, we have chosen to be a voice for the unborn in our country over the voice of the born and it’s breaking us.

It’s breaking our witness.

It’s breaking our communities.

It’s breaking our relationships.

It’s breaking our church.

And I am terrified we will not recover.

Think of Jesus.

Who sat at His table?

Who did He willfully break bread with?

Who did He seek out?

And who shamed him for it?

Y’all, Jesus chose to sit at the table with the exact same people we’ve stood in opposition against over decisions/beliefs that do not change whether they could ever be called His Children.

If you want to be a voice for the unborn, fine.

But, we have to simultaneously lift our voices for the born in our country who have found themselves fearful, forgotten and discriminated against.  

Or we’re hypocrites.

Refugees.

Muslims

Latinos.

Blacks

And to the women who are choosing abortion.

If you are bothered by this.

Then open your home.

Offer her support.

You realize she’s not skipping to the clinic right?

You realize this circumstance sucks for her, right?

Offer her resources to help her during this season.

Offer to adopt her baby for crying out loud.

If we cannot be willing to support her by whatever means necessary, then we’re a clanging symbol.

Come alongside her and let her know she has options, because she does. That’s truth.

But don’t shame from the sidelines.

This is solving nothing.

It’s dividing our nation.

And is anything but representative of the Man we claim to follow.

Right now, we need to listen to the born.

To our neighbors.

To the outcry of minorities.

To the women who feel unseen.

We’ve been loud for so long.

Can we listen?

Can we listen and be okay with no reply?

Will we?

For the sake of the church will we?

For the sake of being reconcilers in this world, will we?

____________________________________________

And in the end, I cling to the truth that HE is Good.

When the world is broken, He is good.

When the church is breaking, He is good.

When I am saddened by my country, He is good.

When I barely want to claim my roots anymore, He is good.

I will continue to listen to this song on repeat in my home during a season where I am having to willfully remind myself of this goodness.

It is true.

Even when it feels false.

Thanks for crawling into my heart with me for a minute.

-Kelsey

P.S. If you ever want to process/talk with me offline, I am so incredibly open to that.

Chapter 1: Waking Up

Until recently, I’ve always stayed out of the political conversation.

I’ll educate myself, and stay silent.

I’m entering a season of figuring out what it looks like to put a voice to my internal processing.

This is my first attempt.

Chapter 1: Waking Up

Jacob is the first friend I can remember.

His mom and my mom were good friends.

I remember pillow fights and running around outside.  

Cool Colorado summer nights.  

(If you’ve never experienced them, they’re a slice of heaven).

I don’t ever remember seeing Jacob as any different than me.

That friendship was a gift and one that I think has shaped me in more ways than I could have imagined it would.

6th grade.

We had just moved to Arkansas, I’m sitting in class and for the first time, hear kids talk about blacks, I learn there is supposed to be a difference and am too insecure and too confused to ask questions.

High School. 
One of my best friends begins dating someone black. 

I remember being so glad, that whatever that was about in 6^th grade had ended.

Everyone had moved on.

College.

I’m a History Major; African American Studies are for the most part the only upper-level courses I take.

I became completely enamored by Black History in the United States.

I cannot consume enough information about it.

From the ports of West Africa to the Civil War and on into the 1950s.

I learn we aren’t out of the woods.

There is not a piece of American History more important to me then the story of the black community.

Partially, because it’s still unfolding and partially because I am wired in and out to desire restoration.

Y’all.

I literally cannot function when something is broken or won’t work.

I’ll obsess about it – be it a broken process at work, a tangled necklace, my computer, a toy of Harpers or a friends life in shambles.

I want things to work.

I want people fixed.

I want restoration like I need oxygen.

And right now, there is a brokenness in our country that has been brought to light.

This division has always been there, so many are just now waking up to it.

And I am both saddened by the ignorance and thankful for the revelation.

A wound won’t heal if you don’t acknowledge that it exists.

It will only continue to worsen.

And I hope that we all feel the weight of taking part in the process of cleaning it out.

Cleaning it out of our homes.

Cleaning it out of our churches.

Cleaning it out of our schools.

Cleaning it out of our communities.

And our nation as a whole.

A president will not fix this. 

The people will. 

This goes so much deeper than the right or the left for me.

Beyond politics

It’s about my relationship with Jesus – who stood by God at formation when He said He created man in His image.

Our value of life tied into that one statement.

The Creator of all speaking Himself into us.

Identifying His creation in His likeness.

“I have called you by name, you are Mine.”

All genders.

All races.

He is not color-blind.

He created color and each shade is a representation of His creativity and His beauty.

Make no mistake, if we have judged another by the color of their skin we have blasphemed the Word of God and denied the right that they are created in His image.

And if you are white, we have to recognize the privilege that currently exists in our country. 

I think we often feel if we claim privilege as whites, that this is degrading.

The problem is not the claim. 

The problem is that this privilege exists in the first place and it's our job to help break it down. 

So that we are truly raising our children in a society where ALL are equal. 

We cannot settle with being silent.

Our generation has a part to play in this story of restoration.

We are at a pivotal point in the narrative of our country. 

And, I don’t think the argument of, "This is not our forever home, it’s hard here but we have so much to look forward to in the next world,” excuses us.

That does well to ease our anxiety.

But the other side of that sword is complacency.

Jesus was anything but that.

Right now, THIS is where we live.

And the testimony and legacy you live on this earth affects the next. 

The Christian Community has raised their voices high for the unborn.

And I’m not saying this voice is wasted or unimportant.

But, I do wonder, have we been so focused on being a voice for them that we’ve lost sight of the voice that’s needed for the born right now?

I think that's for Chapter 2. 

New is a Good Thing

I haven't written in so long, honestly, I haven't really thought much of it either. The past year has felt like an absolute whirlwind. I didn't ever think that I had a hard time with change, big change anyway, but my Myers Briggs and the past few years have said otherwise. So, I guess, I'll embrace it. I like it when the leaves change, I don't really like it when life does, I mean, I like it, I don't want to sound completely rigid, it's just hard.

For the past few months, I've finally let myself grieve -- I didn't realize how hard leaving ministry would be. It's an automatic extended family. I guess I should have thought that walking away from that would ache - it just didn't ever really occur to me, that it would. That season of life for Todd and I was so sweet. I wouldn't have wanted to start off our marriage any other way.

We had the privilege of leading students with one another, going to camps, staying up way too late and eating too much Eureka Pizza - really, I don't think I'll ever eat that pizza again. Harpers first trip was a plane ride out to Colorado - looking back, I was kind of nuts, she was 8 weeks old (and a trooper that week!) - I just couldn't imagine not being there for my girls last camp - and camp with Todd was my favorite.  He was an amazing youth leader - and I ran our churches fair trade shop and then coffee shop - we intersected outside of student ministry on a daily basis.

Since then, Todd and I have both started new careers. He's a teacher at New Tech High School in Rogers and I run operations and account manage at a marketing agency (Smack.co). The change came at the right time for both of us - we'd been praying about it for a while for Todd and then once he transitioned - we started praying the same for me.

We're both exactly where we are supposed to be - I have such a peace about that. It's just new and different and we don't really get to do it together. I realize this is the norm - that most couples don't get to experience what we did. I have a new sense of grace for those who walk out of ministry -- I get it. I also have a new sense of understanding for couples who go their separate ways in the morning and come home that evening spent -- I get that, too.

But, through it all, I know that the Lord would not call us from where we were if it weren't His Will. Harper is flourishing in her new little preschool - and Todd and I are learning how to share in life with one another in a completely new way. Our weekends are sacred - this is one big bonus, something we didn't ever get before. We are loving Saturday Night at Mosaic. We get to sleep in on Sundays -- watch cartoons and stay in our PJs all day, well Todd and I do, Harper only wants to wear her Elsa Halloween costume on the weekends.

These are good things - and pretty soon, it will feel like our normal, not our new normal. We have so much to be thankful for this year. 


Kels