Death is a horrible, gut-wrenching reality in this life. It robs and steals and takes away a most precious person. Its ability to plunge you into grief is unparalleled. The depths of sorrow seem to go deeper and deeper. But I also have come to compare the depth of that sorrow by the depth of love that was known.

Sacred identity as belonging is the foundational hub of our sense of self-hood. Again, it is not about achievement and the mixed motivations that are involved in securing our place in a social (I’m more popular), intellectual (I’m smarter), or spiritual (I’m closer to God) hierarchy.

When was the last time you were with someone who was completely convinced that something was true? Can you think of one? I sure can. Just this past weekend. We were playing a dice game with some friends called Qwixx. Every time we rolled the dice, we would roll a seven. Seriously, every time. Finally I said, “what are the odds that we would all keep rolling a seven?” My husband said, with 100% certainty, “about 17%.”

Growing up in the islands, I constantly saw people using a machete for everything from clearing brush to opening coconuts. One day, after many years of watching people expertly wield this large knife, I was confident I could do it too, despite never having even held one. We were at the beach and someone had just cut some coconuts from the tree and I was ready to impress my friends with my machete skills. I remember the local men smirking as they handed me the machete, which was probably about two feet long.

If any of my children are going to follow in the footsteps of their father to serve in the military, it will be my 4-year-old son. He is fascinated by the military, weapons, and fighting. Despite his fascination with being a warrior, it is apparent as he runs around our house with paper towel tubes, he has no idea how to wield a sword. I have to admit that I have figuratively done the same in life. Running around with the Sword of the Spirit, bumping into, throwing, and flailing it around carelessly and unhinged, being annoying and a danger of painful cardboard paper cuts to any who cross my path.

One of the great delights I’ve experienced was being cast in my first play, Shakespeare’s King John. I was a first year theatre major, and scoring a part in a main stage production was a shock and a thrill. So many thrills. Watching and working side by side with the big dogs of the department whom I adored. The smell of my freshly-printed script. Falling in love with William Shakespeare, as the director and voice coaches taught me the fundamental beauties of Shakespeare’s language. Reveling over having a custom-made costume—my heart leapt when the costume designer revealed the sketches at the first rehearsal.

Double-dipped. Is your faith double-dipped? Are you walking double-dipped? Ok, stay with me here. You will see the connection in just a minute.

This week I have been visiting my parents in Iowa. This morning we were in Menards Hardware store and I saw a bag of Brach’s double-dipped peanuts and I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it, my debit card was out of my wallet and the double dips were in my mouth. I love double dipped peanuts! I have always considered them such a treat. I rarely buy them, but when I do, I literally savor each peanut. I eat them slow. I relish the chocolate. I just love them.

As we were walking out of the store, my mom said to me, “do you still love double-dipped peanuts?” I said, “still? I always have.” And then she told me this story.

The Apostle Paul admonishes his readers in Ephesus to “put on the whole armor of God.” One of these pieces of protective gear is the “helmet of salvation.” In that Ephesian audience two thousand years ago, the church would have been familiar with the Roman soldiers’ various pieces of battle gear. The Roman army spread throughout the Greco-Roman world in the first century would regularly have ceremonial parades. The purpose of the parade was to strengthen the morale of the soldier, often far from home, and to serve as a warning to residents of the military supremacy of Rome. And, generally, these ceremonial warnings would serve their purposes well.

I have been cultivating the practice of stillness. I wish I could say this was a natural inclination for me, but it is not. Even with all the encouragement, teaching, and personal experience of my need for stillness, I often fail at its practice. My natural inclination is to start my day with a mind full of my responsibilities and a wondering how will I accomplish all that is before me. However, as I have learned over and over again, beginning my day with that mindset only creates a chronic anxiousness and hurriedness of spirit. Love is far from me and I have reduced my precious day, one that I will never be able to repeat, into a day of tasks and one that looks very little like the abundant life we are called to live in Jesus.

Growing up in Denver, Colorado, you learn at an early age football is life—more specifically Broncos football is life. As the seasons begin to transition from summer to fall, the energy in the city begins to shift. Excitement fills the air, and on game day, the excitement builds to a point in which it feels like the city is sitting on a volcano ready to erupt! I could only imagine what the energy is like in the locker room as the players are suiting up to go into battle.

Walking through Target, I’m starting to see all the “Back to School” items, which always makes me think of my own schooling. I initially started college with the intent to become a doctor. After several twists and turns, I ended up becoming a counselor. Recently, my husband asked me if I could change my career, what would it be. I immediately said, “Psychiatrist and studying neuro science.” I love learning how the mind works: Biology and Psychology working together.

When I was 7 years old my family moved to a remote island called Yap in the South Pacific. Within 18 months of moving there, my family was introduced to something the locals had been experiencing for decades – a tropical storm called a typhoon. Much like a hurricane, a typhoon can inflict much damage with high winds and tons of rain. I remember being in awe of the frenzied activity it took to get ready. Windows got boarded up to guard against flying coconuts and other debris, supplies were purchased, and water and candles were collected because we were guaranteed to lose water and power. It was scary and exciting all at once. We were ready when the storm hit, and I remember being so scared as we huddled by candlelight as the winds and rain whipped around outside our small house. We were safe inside but outside it was utter chaos and lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the wind shook the walls.

I am soooooo not a gardener. I don’t have a green thumb in my body. I look at plastic flowers and they die. Seriously. So growing things is a definite challenge for me. It’s kind of funny when you think about it because I grew up in Iowa, where everyone has a garden in their back yard or 50 acres in their back lot. I’m a farmgirl at heart and by birth. I’m just not a gardener.

Why a “shield of faith?” Why not a “shield of hope” or a “shield of love?” After all, the Apostle Paul tells us in his influential (and worth memorizing) 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians that “these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love” (NIV, verse 13). What makes “faith” so metaphorically and spiritually superior as a “shield” to guard against the “flaming arrows of the enemy” (Ephesians 6: 16)?

The Roman Empire’s Army was the largest and meanest fighting force in the ancient world. One of the main reasons the Roman Empire became so powerful and for so long was because the strength of its army. Their army was very advanced for its time: The soldiers were the best trained, they had the best weapons, and they had the best armor.

Throughout my life, I have heard the phrase, “keep the faith” more times than I can count. So much so, that sometimes it feels like there is no meaning behind it. Recently I found myself wondering what is faith? A quick Google search of “faith” will return two definitions:

When I was a kid, I was either barefoot or in a pair of flip flops. My feet were pretty tough! Whereas today I’d much rather get a pedicure. In those days I was running around on rocks, dirt and pavement. I watch a show sometimes called Naked and Afraid (don’t judge me!), where survivalists are put to the ultimate test – they are dumped naked (with a stranger as a partner) in some remote, harsh location and have to figure out how to survive with very minimal resources for 21 days. I’ve noticed that some survivalists prep their feet for the challenge. I even watched one guy walk over hot coals over and over again to ensure that his feet were tough enough to handle the challenge……

I have been an overachiever for much of my life, and I learned at an early age how to take care of and rely on myself. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect and wanted people to notice me for all the things I could do. Some days, I felt accomplished because of what I could achieve on my own, but most days I was exhausted from the need to control everything……

…. Another translation says – “Shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace.” NASB That’s code for “put your shoes on”. Have you ever had your mom say to you when you were a kid, “you’re not ready to go, you don’t even have your shoes on” I have…and I’ve said it to my kids. Having your shoes on means you are ready……

He was in trouble. Tom was in my high school counselor’s office at Benedictine High School in Metro Detroit. Not because he was kicked out of class or had the typical scheduling problem. As he unfolded his torment to me, it was immediately upsetting to hear of his being bullied daily by classmates before and after school. I asked him for names, knowing it was the only way I could almost guarantee that the bullying would cease.