My 2017 Book List

MY FAVORITES

The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert: An English Professor’s Journey into Christian Faith by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield. The gap between evangelical Christians and the homosexual community has never been wider. If both sides would sit down together and read the first part of this small little book, we would learn volumes. The author was a liberal feminist college professor and outspoken lesbian when she formed an unlikely friendship with an elderly pastor and his wife. Her journey to Christ cost her everything; she calls her conversion a “train wreck” and makes us understand why. If we want to draw gay men and women to the gospel, we’ve first got to understand them. We’ve got to learn why they define themselves by their sexuality. We’ve got to know what it looks like to love them while speaking the truth. This book is a great start. The latter part turns into the author’s advocacy of adoption, homeschooling, and certain doctrinal issues—still interesting, but not as helpful as the first part.

Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age by Sherry Turkle. Face-to-face interactions are changing rapidly, and this MIT researcher tells us how. Turkle writes,"The thing I hear most is that going to your phone makes it easier to avoid boredom or anxiety. Through our devices, our brains are offered a continuous and endlessly diverting menu that requires less work. We haven’t stopped talking, but we opt out, often unconsciously, of the kind of conversation that requires full attention. Every time you check your phone in company, what you gain is a hit of stimulation, a neurochemical shot, and what you lose is what a friend, teacher, parent, lover, or co-worker just said, meant, and felt.” Turkle has scientific evidence for all the vague suspicions and concerns I have about social media. She is not chicken little; the book is more balanced that you’d think. It’s also intended as a wake-up call for parents—not just to be careful with their kids’ technology, but with their own. An example: “Fifteen-year-old Hillary says that when it comes to personal matters, she would rather turn to her mother than the network, but ‘when my mother is texting, she can’t be reached.’ And she doesn’t know how to get her mother’s attention. But on Instagram or Facebook, someone is always listening.” This is a book we would all be wise to give our attention to. 

Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at its Best by Eugene Peterson. Peterson had a rough year, but I’m still a big, big fan. This book about the prophet Jeremiah, originally written in the 80s, is as relevant as ever. Peterson’s angle: Why is it that those who live badly are the ones living in the limelight? Why is it so difficult to publicly identify the few who are living wise, thoughtful, meaningful, selfless, humble, beautiful lives? Those are the people experiencing what it means to be fully human. I learned so much about Jeremiah in this book that still felt completely relevant and modern. And no one writes like Eugene Peterson. I need to keep a dictionary handy as I read his work, as well as a journal that is rapidly filling up with brilliant Peterson quotes.

Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus by Nabeel Qureshi. This is an apologetics book—Christian and Islam apologetics—written in first-person story form. After 9/11, this devout Muslim college student began delving into the foundations of both faiths and realized that his own came up wanting. With everything to lose, Qureshi turned to Jesus in the face of evidence he could not deny. His story is captivating, and I can't imagine a better book for a Muslim who is seeking to know more about Jesus. Qureshi died of cancer at age 34 in September. This is one of three books he left behind.

MY ATTEMPT AT UNDERSTANDING THE WORLD

Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right by Arlie Russell Hochschild. In my ongoing attempt to make sense of the Rust Belt Trump voters, I persevered through this book. A liberal Berkeley sociologist spent five years interviewing and living among residents of Lake Charles, Louisiana, to discover answers about what she calls the Great Paradox: Why do people in one of the poorest, most polluted states continue to vote for anti-regulation, big-industry focused political candidates? Not surprisingly, the author didn't check her biases at the door and gives a stereotypical, negative portrayal of Christians. I struggled to get through the book, but the many stories and some insightful conclusions kept me going.

Much better was...

Hillbilly Elegy: A  Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis by J.D. Vance. This one I highly recommend. Much more engaging than Strangers, Vance tells his story of going from a single-parent household in "hillbilly" country to earning a Yale law degree. Not only is his personal story fascinating, but his observations about poor, rural culture were exactly what I was looking for. He explains a mentality that I haven't been able to grasp up to this point. Definitely worth reading.

The Strange Death of Europe: Immigration, Identity, Islam by Douglas Murray. This British author is a divisive figure, and his anti-immigration biases were clear throughout the book. But he’s got some really good points. When Europe became too “enlightened” for Christianity, a huge religious and cultural vacuum resulted. When a strong religion/culture finds a vacuum, it fills the space. This, Murray argues, is what has happened with Islam in 21^st century Europe. I learned that 70% of all students in Catholic schools in the famous Seine Saint-Denis region of France are Muslim. What?! Murray argues that the continent that imports the world’s people will also import the world’s problems and cites dozens of examples from across Europe. His thoughts on immigration were interesting, but I was most fascinated by his perspective as a “post-Christian” hungering for truth, meaning, purpose, and hope, and wishing he could return to the faith of his grandparents. Hmmm.

The Invention of Russia: From Gorbachev's Freedom to Putin's War by Arady Ostrovsky. I picked this book up while looking for a quick read on how Russia got to the place it's in today. Of course Russian writers don't know how to do "quick read." The focus of this book is the role the Russian media have played in the past 30 years and how the government harnesses the media for its own propaganda purposes. In July 2014, Russian TV "interviewed" a Ukrainian woman who said she had witnessed the torture and "crucifixion" of a three-year-old boy at the hand of Ukrainian fascists, followed by the dragging death of the boy's mother behind a military tank. The story was completely made up, and yet it fueled the Russian people's anger against Ukraine and led to overwhelming support of the Crimea annexation. Similar propaganda propelled Russia into Syria. The author states, "The notion of television as a weapon lost its metaphorical sense. It was the real weapon causing real destruction. Never before had wars been conducted and territory gained primarily by means of television and propaganda. The Russian media did not just distort reality—it invented it." My appreciation for the American free press, flawed though it may be, soars in light of this. 

The Gene: An Intimate History by Siddhartha Mukherjee. I am no scientist, but I have a a somewhat morbid interest in biogenetics and the future of gene manipulation. This was the perfect book to answer all my questions. The author, a physician and cancer researcher, addressed the moral side of genetic technology as much as the actual technology itself, and that is where I tuned in the most. I did have to gloss over many pages filled with scientific descriptions and research explanations. But from Darwin to Mendel to Nazi Eugenics to Watson and Crick to CRISPR, he presented a very thorough picture of the development of genetics, as well as a view into what the future could hold. We will all be talking about this in the next 30 years, so I wanted to understand as much as I could. This book was helpful for a non-scientist who appreciates story and good writing.

MIXED RESPONSE

You Are What You Love by James Edward Smith. What I wanted to love was this book, and it came with such acclaim that I was sure I would. But I didn’t love it, at least not beyond the first chapter. I thought it was a hard read—academic and redundant—and the author also had a strong hidden agenda that became not-so-hidden the longer I read. The agenda was orthodoxy, and while I am not at all opposed to orthodoxy, I don’t think I would have intentionally read a book about it. I didn’t love this one, but I didn’t hate it, either. The author did make some great points that will stick with me a long time.

The Beckoning by Michael Minot. This book was recommended by a trusted organization, but unless you’re a new believer, a believer struggling with doubt, or someone who’s on the fence about Jesus, I wouldn’t recommend this one. It’s a straight-up apologetics book, not-so-professionally written, but I still made it all the way through. Every once in a while we need a reminder about how amazing it is that we are the perfect distance from the sun. The Beckoning is good for those types of reminders.

FICTION

11/22/63 by Stephen King. After reading King’s On Writing last year (so well done), I decided to try one of his novels. Except the last thing I’m gonna do is read a horror book. This is one of his few non-horror stories. As the title indicates, it’s a time-travel story about the assassination of JFK. With a thought-provoking subject and good characters, it entertained me for hours on a long road trip (hours and hours and hours, as it’s 847 pages), but I don’t need to read another Stephen King book. I’m pretty sure it was the book’s foul language—even more so than the road trip—that made me feel like I was always in need of a shower. The language, along with some excessively graphic violence, got old real quick and detracted from an otherwise good story.

And speaking of needing a shower...

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. The most toxic characters I’ve met in literature appear in Franzen’s critically acclaimed book. But it is acclaimed for good reason. At times, the writing took my breath away. He unfurls a sentence—sometimes two pages long—like nothing I’ve ever seen. You would think that masterful writing and an interesting plot—a couple in their 60s trying to have one last Christmas in their own house with their three adult children—would make for a great book. Many have made that assessment of The Corrections. But the characters were unlikable to the point of being gross, each of them so unhealthy, miserable, and morally bankrupt that I could barely journey with them through what should have been a really good story.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce. It’s hard to find a fiction book today that doesn’t require at least a bit of moral compromise. This simple little tale is an exception. Good writing, vivid characters, and a simple storyline add up to a nice, quick read. Still, while others might find it hopeful or uplifting, I didn’t. I liked the character transformation and the ending, but as much as I enjoyed the book, it was a story that made me sad.

Commonwealth by Ann Patchett. It’s disappointing when a good writer tells a mediocre story. Every page of this popular book contained at least a couple well constructed, well planned sentences. While I appreciated that part of the book, I didn’t care about the characters or their story. A bit of a yawn. 

East of Eden by John Steinbeck. My first read of this classic. It was also a good escape from the crude language and graphic sex and violence of modern novels. A good story, but the characters almost seemed too formulaic as Steinbeck considered the themes of good versus evil and fate versus self-direction. Modern reading has given me a taste for more areas of gray rather than characters who are so black and white. But of course the writing was very good and the story moved along well.

Any recommendations for 2018? Please send them my way! 

Christmas in Light of the Cross

For weeks, I've been camped out in John 19. My work has led me there, but it just as easily could have led me to Galatians or Joshua or Job. But that's not the timing of things this year. No, this Christmas season, while the rest of the world is thinking about Luke 2, my mind is swimming in John 19. While everyone else is pondering the beginning of Jesus' story, I'm immersed in the end.

I have always loved all things Christmas. I'm chomping at the bit to get the tree up weeks before the rest of my family. I'm that person who annoys everyone else by listening to Christmas music in early November. But this year, my perspective is a little different, shaped by John 19.

I hear "What Child Is This" on the radio, and I answer in my head: "The one who would be tortured, mocked, and nailed to a cross. The one who would announce 'It is finished' and mean more with those three words than any human being could grasp in a lifetime."

I hear "Mary Did You Know" and picture Jesus' mother not holding her newborn infant in a manger, but standing in horror at the foot of the cross watching her son crucified--but not before He ensured that she would be cared for by His friend John.

I walk through the streets caroling with my daughters and their friends, hearing their sweet voices sing, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing." I imagine these same angels, no robes or harps, but an army of warrior angels looking down at the crucifixion with shock and indignation, restrained only by sheer devotion to God from storming the earth and rescuing heaven's prince.

"Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let earth receive her King." Not only did earth not receive Him; it mocked Him, hanging Him under the banner, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." This was Pilate's dig at the Jewish religious leaders, an inscription on Jesus' cross that he knew would infuriate them. It did just that, but it also served to properly identify the one who truly was the King, not only of the Jews but of everyone everywhere.

I hear "O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant." There's no joy and triumph in John 19. There are very few "faithful" who followed Jesus all the way to cross. The crowds who flocked to Him during His life abandoned Him at His death. I'll have to wait for John 20 to see any sign of joy and triumph.

Christmas and Easter. They're three months apart on our calendars, but they're intertwined in history. The glory of God was on full display at both the nativity and the cross. Neither is what we'd expect. God's glory was a baby "shivering in the night" and a man bleeding to death in the most humiliating, excruciating form of execution ever devised. (The very word "excruciating" shares its Latin root with "crucify" and means "pain as severe as crucifixion." The Romans set the standard for unbearable pain.)

As we come to adore Him this Christmas, let's not forget the price He paid for us to do that. Celebrate and enjoy, for sure, but remember that the baby in the manger, so meek and mild, was led to the cross like a sheep to the slaughter. He willingly laid down His life for us in the most horrific of ways. While you're reading Luke 2 on Monday, think about reading John 19, as well--and then continue on to John 20 for the real celebration.

Beggars Seeking Grace, One and All

A lot of people died last week, people whose names and stories I didn't know. But three of them, I know a little something about. These three all arrived at the throne of God last week.

One was a well respected businessman and missionary, a man who lived a long life dedicated to knowing Christ and making Him known. He was gracious and kind. He had a beautiful marriage and left a legacy of faith for his descendants, both biological and spiritual. He was what you'd call a "good man." Maybe even a "great man."

The second man I know less about, except for the scandalous public facts. As a teenager, he intentionally killed his own mother. As a prisoner, he encountered Jesus. As a middle-aged man, his life sentence was commuted, due in part to the tireless petitioning of his brothers and sisters in Christ. He found a home in a church and blessed many with his musical gifts before he fell again, this time to alcohol and a drunk-driving incident that seriously injured his victim. Apparently, it was another drunk-driving episode that took his life. He was what we would call a "very flawed" man.

The third person--and yes, she was definitely a person--never stepped foot on the earth. She was a full-term baby who died without ever leaving her mother's womb. Though she was marked by humanity's sin nature, she never had the opportunity to sin herself; she was what we'd call "innocent."*

I picture all three, entering heaven at just about the same time. In my mind, one is wearing his suit and tie, one a prison-orange jumpsuit, and the third, completely naked. Three such different people. Three vastly different stories. And yet...

All in the same position. All sinners condemned for offenses against a holy God. All incapable of doing any lasting good on their own, even their best deeds like "filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6) before a God whose righteousness is beyond comprehension. And yet each of them declared holy, blameless, and above reproach (Colossians 1:22). They died not as slaves to sin, but as sinners saved by grace, each one of them as desperate for God's mercy as anyone else.

How we live this life matters, I know that. I want to be known as someone who lives a "good" life. But at the end of the day, it's not my good life that will pass the test of God's judgment. It's the life of His Son, given on my behalf, that makes me righteous. The missionary, the criminal, the baby, and me--we are all just beggars in the presence of the King,** none any better than the other. The blood of Christ covers us all without prejudice. It's a healthy, humbling thought.


*The Bible does not speak specifically to the issue of whether or not babies go to heaven, although some people point to 2 Samuel 12:2 as evidence that they do. When my kids were younger and brought up this question, I answered by asking them what they knew to be true of God's character. In light of His mercy and love, I don't have any trouble believing that God's saving grace covers young children and those who are mentally incapable of knowing Christ. 

**Thank you, Matthew West.

If we ever needed a Savior...

In the face of a tidal wave of sexual misconduct claims and admissions, a few thoughts come to mind:

• How can such a large number of well-educated men be so stupid? "For whatever is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is meant to be brought out into the open. If anyone has ears to hear, let them hear." --Jesus (Mark 4:22-23)
• Why is Vice President Mike Pence still belittled for his policy against dining alone with any woman who is not his wife? Some call him an unenlightened prude; some charge sexism and oppression against women. A lot of prominent Christian men, including Billy Graham, stay out of cars, hotel rooms, and closed-door office meetings that might be shared with just one woman. In light of what we're facing today, can these men get a little respect for trying to stay above reproach? 
• How tricky is it to grow up as a boy in this culture? Certainly they need to follow common-sense rules of respect and appropriate behavior. If they didn't know before, they'll know now that dirty jokes, greedy hands, and walking around publicly in their underwear is not only offensive but just plain dumb. At the same time, they're growing up in a "Girls Gone Wild" culture where nude selfies are the norm, and casual hookups are just a swipe away on Tinder. Add to this that famously underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, and you wonder how they're supposed to make sense of such mixed messages. 
• Her timing was indeed terrible, but how come Olympic gymnast Gabby Douglas was slaughtered by the press when she suggested that women dress modestly and aim for classy over provocative in order to avoid drawing attention from the "wrong crowd"? She was decried for "victim shaming," but did anyone consider that this might actually be good advice? (A few days after the outcry against her Douglas announced that she, too, was the victim of sexual abuse by the notorious USA Team Gymnastics doctor.)
• What the world needs to know, now more than ever: We have a Savior and Redeemer. For the woman whose body and soul have been violated, He brings healing and wholeness. For the man whose sin has left him humiliated, jobless, and alone, He brings forgiveness, restoration, and new identity. Jesus is the only answer for a world torn apart by our racial and gender warring. In Him alone--and by dying to ourselves and our sin--do we find selfless love, reconciliation, and the ability to live peacefully with our neighbors.This certainly isn't easy, but in Jesus, it is possible. There's something to be thankful for. 

Changing the World, One Verse at a Time

We go about our busy days never realizing that the person in the carpool line next to us might be changing the world. Ten years ago, I stood in in a kindergarten orientation meeting bouncing my new baby in the back of the room. Another woman did the same thing beside me, both of us trying to absorb whatever information we could while pacifying our baby girls. This woman--I would later learn her name was Tosha--would be a casual acquaintance for years before becoming a friend as those babies grew up to become dear friends. And while we were bouncing babies, setting up play dates, hosting birthday parties, and driving our kids in endless circles, Tosha was changing the world, starting in her own car.

What she was doing sounds pretty simple, one of those things where you think, "Why didn't I think of that?" All it took was turning off the radio and focusing the chatter in her car on one thing: a verse of Scripture. As she drove her five kids to school, they memorized this verse and talked about it in depth, things like its original context and how it applied to their own lives thousands of years later. They camped on that verse for a week until it was fully ingrained, until her kids owned it for themselves, and then they moved on to another and another and another. Her goal? To make the Bible feel like home to her children. To show her kids that the people in the Bible are not mythological characters with unpronounceable names, but to know them as friends and family. To say, "Ah, yes, Jeremiah. I know him well. I can't wait to talk with him face to face one day."

Tosha's vision for discipling her kids grew bigger. Like me, she believes that one of the biggest challenges facing the church today is biblically illiterate Christians. She wanted other children in other families to feel at home in the Bible, too. She knew this might feel like a daunting task to harried parents everywhere, so she made it easy. So easy that anyone who drives five or ten minutes in a car with their children every day (or eats a meal with them) can make this work. Last month, Tosha launched this program online--free curriculum to make the Bible feel like home to our kids. Each week, there's a new verse, a new set of discussion topics and questions that can literally be covered at a stop light, and new encouragement for how anyone can do this, quickly, simply, effectively. You can find it at MommyDiscipleMe.org.

I have to admit that when I went to hear Tosha introduce Mommy Disciple Me, I was blown away by her vision, but I was also met with a flood of personal regret. My kids don't call me Mommy anymore, and no one here is asking to be discipled. Tosha addressed this with the older mothers in the room, and God addressed it in my heart. It is never too late to spend time with our children around the Word of God. To believe otherwise is to believe a lie. If we truly believe that the Bible is the guide book to life, our source for wisdom and truth, that it's still "living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword" (Hebrews 4:12), then any time is a good time to start (or start again) discipling our kid with God's Word.

It looks different for those of us whose kids don't ride in our cars much anymore and whose schedules make all-family meals a rare treat. But we can still make the Bible feel like home in our family. For us, already memorizing our individual AWANA verses, it means that we've started coming together once a week to talk with each other about what those verses mean. Maybe you've found something that works for your family already. If so, great. Keep at it! And if you're still searching for something, or if you've stopped searching and now you just feel guilty and lame (oh, I hear you!), then give Mommy Disciple Me a try. Adapt it for whatever age your kids are. Use the Scripture memory for yourself or with a friend if you don't have kids. There are no "children's verses" in the Bible. They're for everyone.

The greatest responsibility we have as parents is also our greatest privilege: to introduce our kids to the God who made them, loves them, died for them, and longs for relationship with them. If you need a little help with this, no matter the age or your kids or grandkids, I encourage you to take a look at Mommy Disciple Me. Kids who grow into adults well armed with the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, will change the world, and it can start with us.

Confessing the Sins of Our Past

In studying John 16 the past few weeks, I've learned how gentle Jesus was in letting the disciples in on things. Our all-knowing God knows just how much His children can take at one time.

When I started walking with Him at the age of 10, and in earnest at about 19, He didn't just heap a bunch of conviction on me and tell me to deal with it. Gradually, year after year, He exposes new areas that need my attention, areas in which He wants to free me from sin and lead me into growth. Recently, He's brought an entirely new area to my mind, something I've never really thought about. It's corporate sin that requires corporate confession, and it all started with an article in Christianity Today.

I have never been to a protest. I'm generally not a fan of protesting, at least not the kind that involves angry signs and repetitive chants on city streets. As I've watched the Black Lives Matter marches, the removal of certain memorials, and the NFL-National Anthem debacle, I've felt more agitation at the protesters than affinity with their cries for justice. That's too bad, because God cares deeply about justice, and I want to care about what He cares about.

The article I read opened my eyes to a new perspective. Instead of organizing another protest, an organization led by Harvard grad and justice crusader Bryan Stevenson is creating a national memorial to remember the 4,000 African Americans who were lynched in this country between 1877 and the 1950s. In doing so, he is calling on the church in this country to acknowledge and repent, as a community, for the sins of slavery and racial cruelty in our nation's past. While this has happened within some denominations, Stevenson's goal is to extend the call to all individual followers of Christ.

In the past, this would not have registered with me, and I wouldn't have even finished the article. I'm a native Coloradan with no loyalty to the Confederacy and no complicity in either slavery or lynchings, both of which happened decades before my birth.But when the writer gave biblical precedent for caring about the sins of our ancestors, I tuned in.

Daniel confessed to sins that happened in another location in another generation. Nehemiah confessed the idolatry and oppression of his ancestors. Jesus told the Pharisees of His day that "this generation will be held responsible for the blood of all the prophets that has been shed since the beginning of the world" (Luke 11:50-51). Since the beginning of the world! That's a lot of accountability.

The idea of corporate ownership and confession of sins is also in line with 2 Chronicles 7:14, a verse that's screamed from the rooftops during political elections: "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

As the church in this country takes corporate ownership for the sins in our history, "there is an element of personal transformation that goes deeper than the moral outrage of so many modern protests," says Bryan Stevenson. "It doesn't have the same self-righteous component to it." It's that self-righteous shaming that I rebel against when I see the protesters on TV. It makes me want to run instead of joining in and fighting the good fight in whatever ways I can.

Stevenson went on to say, "I am not interested in punishing America with this history. I want to liberate us. I want us to find the path that gets us to redemption."

Redemption. By my definition, it means God creating something beautiful out of our messes. It means that nothing is wasted; everything is used by Him. It's healing. It's forgiveness. It's making all things new. That's what our nation longs for. That's why people organize rallies and pick up signs. But true, lasting, healing redemption only comes through Jesus.

There is biblical precedent for corporate confession, and there is a burning need for healing in this land. Together these ideas are transforming my thoughts and my prayers. I've never personally owned a slave, but I'm part of a nation who thoughtlessly treated people as property. I'm part of a people who denied the dignity and humanity of all people and who sinned grievously against the God who created human beings in His image. That's my history. That's becoming part of my confession.

Finding My Place in a Non-Place World

How much of my life am I living in non-places?

This term "non-places," created by French anthropologist Marc Auge nearly ten years ago, is new to me. Auge introduced the idea in his book on super modernity, describing them as transient spaces where we remain anonymous, spaces that don't hold enough significance to even be regarded as real "places." Writer Mark Sayers, in his recent book Strange Days: Life in the Spirit in a Time of Upheaval, latches onto the non-places idea, calling them spaces with no identity, no history, and no relationships. The term applies to actual physical locations, such as freeways, hotels, airports, and fast-food restaurants, as well as cyber spaces--everything from Amazon to hookup sites.

I'm realizing that I have to work harder and harder to choose places over non-places. As much as I desire to be known, that requires time, effort, and vulnerability, and usually it's just quicker and easier to do life in non-places that don't require so much of me.

I go to a megachurch, where I rarely see the same people from week to week, let alone sit by them or interact with them. No one knows when we're not there. We are anonymous, a family of six in a sea of faces, and my children have never known anything else.

We go to chain restaurants where the food is always the same but the staff is always different. A year ago we sat in one of these restaurants, six of us, mind you, in the dead center of the room, for at least a half hour with no acknowledgement from anyone--no greeting, no menu, no order taken, no eye contact. For a while it was an interesting social experiment (could we force someone to notice us, without saying a word?), but eventually we gave up and walked out.

I've taken to buying my groceries online. I love it and it's given me hours of my life back, but at what cost? As much as I hated walking its aisles week after week, I had history with Walmart. Addison pushed me through the store when my ankle was injured, making me laugh so hard I could barely see straight. It was the place where I made up stories and songs to entertain my little kids as we waited in a long line on a Friday afternoon. I made chit-chat with the same checkers, week after week. I used to bump into friends  and acquaintances and occasionally have meaningful conversation in the mayonnaise aisle. Now I add items to my cart on a computer screen. Much of my other shopping is done the same way, in non-places, so convenient, yet so impersonal. I'm not about to give these up, but they make me work harder to use that saved time well.

I work from home. I email and text my friends, my mom, my husband, my children. I spend hours in the car, often by myself, driving in circles alongside strangers doing the same thing. I have to be intentional to seek out real places with real people. It takes effort, but I'm always so thankful for how it pays off.

There are times, many times, when anonymity and efficiency are the best choice, but they can't be all there is. I want to choose places where I have history (like the place at my church where I've spent Wednesday nights at Awana for the past eleven years), relationships (going out on dates with my husband, spending one-on-one time with my kids, taking walks with friends), and identity (not the kind that can be stolen in an Equifax hack, but the kind that is grounded in the truth of who God made me to be). I want my kids to choose real places over non-places, to consider that as they look for colleges. I hope we will all do the hard work of being known, being real, and creating authentic places where we can welcome others in.