Category Archives: Men and Women

I was 18 the first time I saw him, standing there up front, holding the mic. Unimpressed, I slouched down in my chair and folded my arms, thinking, “That’s the kind of guy my mom would want me to marry.”

Famous last words.

Five years later I did in fact marry this man. People change. And I changed when I fell in love with Jesus and began following Him. Suddenly this godly, kind, handsome guy at the mic seemed really appealing. By the time we married we were both working as missionaries and accustomed to the ministry life, so the transition into marriage and ministry life was easy. We got a joint checking account and continued life as normal.

But our ten years of marriage and ministry have been anything but normal.

One year in we moved to another state for a pastoring job, only to discover disaster after disaster.  Determined, we filled every random role available—leading the 55-and-older ministry (which was in reality the 80-and-older ministry), leading community groups in cities we didn’t live in, helping coordinate the couple’s Valentine’s dinner (I still have nightmares), and living in a windowless apartment with rotted out floors. We later moved back and juggled seminary with babies and three-hour round-trip commutes, odd jobs, living with parents, internships, then a pastoring position and another final leap into the wide-open unknown world of church-planting. All of this involved 13 moves, 6 churches, 2 kids, and I’m tired just writing it down. 

But, while I don’t recommend so much change in a short amount of time, the benefit was a wide variety of experiences and the opportunity to observe many ministry marriages. So, out of this experience and observation, what stands out as most important are three memorable quotes from wise women I’ve met along the way: 

{Read the rest over at Jolene Engle… Check it out! Thanks for reading.}

Because I just know you need some humor for your Monday morning.  We are coming up on 5 years since that fateful fall day when I almost destroyed my husband’s head. Please, wives: Don’t ever do this:

I was a young, pregnant, stupid wife.  And my incredibly handsome, fit, trim, intelligent, amazing husband has some serious gray-hair genes.  His dad was completely silver before he was 40.  Now I love my husband’s hair, but five years ago I was not ready for my tall, dark, and handsome husband to be tall, silver, and handsome…at least not yet. So I came up with the ingenious idea that before he started his brand new pastoring job it’d be fun dye his hair, just to keep the gray from becoming, let’s say, overly aggressive and getting out of control.

“It’ll be fun!” I said. (Now is where you cringe.)

Jeff, however, is not a hair-dye kind of guy. He was adamately opposed. “It’s not honest,” he insisted. “I want to be the real me.  Gray hair and all. I am who I am and I want people to know that what they see is what they get.”  To my eternal chagrin I persisted: “But honey, you’re doing it for me. It’s not dishonest, it’s just like how I take care of myself to bless you.  It’s just like that. Puh-lease??”

Oh dear. I can almost hear Eve’s syrupy voice echoing through my head: “Come’on Adam…it’s so tasty.  Won’t you show me how much you love me by eating with me. Puh-lease???”  Batting her ridiculous eyelashes.  Good grief.

So, he succombed to my pressure.  So I tried a dark brown color, and though it was fine, it definitely did NOT look like his natural color.  It was just off enough to draw my eye constantly to his head…definitely not what I’d hoped for.  So, one week before he started his new job, late on a Friday night, after we’d watched a movie and were about to head to bed, I suggest that I do one more fix-it on his hair to get it to the darker black color that he naturally is.  Again, sweet husband of mine, gave in.

Mind you this is 10pm on a Friday night. We have an infant sleeping in the other room and another large inside my belly. Where my idiotic mind was I have no idea. The next day we were both in a wedding.  The following day, Sunday, was our special going-away service at church where Jeff would be up front on the stage sharing with the congregation about our new plans.  Then, he had school, then that following Wednesday we had a special Welcome Luncheon with all the staff at our new church. Then he would start work at his new job, Mr. Associate Pastor, the following Monday.  Do you get the picture?

Fix-it dye #2 is a disaster.  His hair, apparently because it had already been dyed, took the dye WAY to heavy and it turned GOTH black, like blue-black, the kind that’s so shiny it’s like a Halloween wig.  Seriously.  It also had gotten all over his forehead and ears and dyed them black. So he had a black hairline, black ears, and black nceck.  I tried to pretend it wasn’t that bad, but when Jeff went downstairs to straighten things up, I crawled in bed and started crying. It was horrible.  He looked ridiculous, like he had a big black wig on.  What do I do? Panicking I got online and started google searches about undoing horrible hair colors. I find out about a product called Color Whoops or something and see that Walgreens carries it and that Walgreens is open until 11pm.  WIthout a word I dry my tears, march downstairs in my enormous preggo sweats, slip on some flipflops, grab my purse, walk out the door, and drive to Walgreens where I find my magic stuff.

Back home now, I show him the magic stuff and he agrees to let me try.  His scalp is feeling a bit tender, having been dyed twice now, but we figure we’re almost done with the horror. This stuff will supposedly take hair “back to its natural color.”  Perfect.  We apply, wait the allotted time. Rinse.  NO. No, no, no.  HORROR beyond HORROR. Now the roots have turned BRIGHT orange, like a pumpkin, and the ends of his hair are still black.  Plus, it’s blotchy, so it looks like he’s used that orange and black spray on color people use at Halloween or OSU football games.  NOT ok for a wedding.  NOT ok for a first day of work as the new pastor. Not ok.  More tears.  Prayers. Pleading with God to somehow erase my stupidity.

Trip to Fred Meyer. Another color.  Again, it goes straight to GOTH black.  This time we decide we must go to bed, as its midnight and Jeff’s scalp is burning so bad he’s groaning and clenching his fists while we wait for the color to set.  I’m crying. Praying. Pleading.

The next morning I have to meet someone out of town, so I’m forced to leave my poor ebony-haired husband home with our son. He’s supposed to drive Dutch out to Mom & Dad’s so that we can leave for the wedding at 12:30.  I have to leave the house at 8:20. At 8:05 I race to Fred Meyer to try one last color, a lighter one.  We put it on, rinse. At 8:40 his hair is blacker than ever and I have to leave.  Crying the whole way down I-5 I’m convinced I’ve ruined my husband’s life.  We talk on the phone and decide that since he’s driving Dutch out to Mom & Dad’s he can stop by the store, get one more Oops Color and a lighter shade of brown, and dye his hair by himself at my parents’ house before coming back and meeting me for the wedding.  Ok, good.  I’m feeling horrible about the fact that he has to walk into a drug storeby himself and buy Oops Color and hair dye, feeling I’m sure like a complete idiot. I tell him to explain to everyone he sees that it’s his WIFE who is the idiot, not him. Of course he won’t do that.

So to make matters worse, we discover that the keys to his car are in my purse. He has no keys. Cannot take Dutch out to Mom and Dad’s.  Cannot drive to the store to get hair product.  So the man WALKS to the store, with our son, pushing a stroller. I still cannot even fathom the courage this must have taken, to walk proudly into a drug store, pushing a toddler boy in our ghetto stroller, and buying Oops color and hair dye.  He wore a hat, but he said the lady at the counter couldn’t keep a straight face. Bless his heart.

To make a long story a tiny bit shorter, suffice it to say that we did a total of TEN treatments on Jeff’s hair.  His scalp literally started blistering and falling off.  For a week chunks of skin kept flaking off.  And his hair is still an odd purple-red-blackish color.  Do you think I’ve learned my lesson?  Oh dearie.  Yes I have.

But this is what amazes me about my husband.  He never once blamed me or got angry.  He NEVER lost his temper or got frustrated. In fact, selfish me was crying and saying how horrible the whole situation was and how stupid I am and he comforted ME, insisting it wasn’t my fault and I didn’t know how bad it would be.  He never once told people, “My stupid wife did this to me.”  He turned the whole thing into a joke, unafraid of admitting what had happened.  Last week at church he was given a chance to introduce himself and briefly share his testimony. He opened by saying, “If my hair looks purple it’s because it is.  In a few weeks it’ll be gray. You’ll have to ask us about that story.”

But this is what haunted me through this whole thing:  How my stupid decision hurt no one but the one who deserved it least. I deserved to have ruined hair. I deserved to have my scalp burning off and blistering and flaking off in chunks. I deserved to look ridiculous and have to explain to everyone that I was an idiot.  But my hair looks just fine. It’s my husband who suffers. My sweet, kind, caring, humble, gentle husband who suffers because of my decision.  I kept pleading with God, “Lord, please don’t let Jeff suffer because of my stupidity.”

And yet I kept sensing that God was teaching me something I would never forget: Our selfish, stupid decisions hurt those we love the most.  And so often others suffer the consequences of our stupid decisions.  It doesn’t seem fair, but it’s true.  We see it everywhere. Children suffer from the divorce of their parents.  Unborn children suffer for the decisions of their parents.  Victims everywhere suffer because of others’ stupid decisions.  Our actions and decisions affect others profoundly.

But more than any of those examples … our Lord Jesus Himself. Even now tears stream down my cheeks as I realize that ultimately THE Innocent One suffered for our sin.  The one who least deserved to die was crucified so that our sin could be atoned.  The innocent for the guilty.  The consequences of my sin poured out on the perfect sinless One.  Oh Jesus help us understand.  Help us understand.

God also was showing me how costly our sin is. Though dyeing Jeff’s hair might not have been sin per se, it was definitely stupid and selfish, and selfishness is sin.  You want to know how much we spent on hair treatments? Yeah, close to $100.  That’s costly all right.  Ridiculously costly.  I lost sleep. I was exhausted Monday morning at school because I’d spent all night dyeing hair and all day worrying about it.  I was anxious about meeting new people because I was afraid they’d think, “What on earth did he do to his hair?”  The anxiety of it sapped my energy, my joy, my vitality.  This is what sin does.  This is what selfishness does.How costly was the sin in the garden? How costly is my daily sin? Your daily sin?  Beyond comprehension. It was so costly that it took the perfect sinless Son of God to die a cruel death to remove our guilt.  Do you think sin is costly?  We have no idea.

So I take away from this hair dye trauma the lesson that we as women have incredible power to help or harm our husbands, children, friends.  Every day we make decisions that bless, edify, help, encourage, or that harm.  And others live with the consequences of our actions.  No one sins in a bubble. I take away that my Savior suffered for my sin.  He bore a lot more shame that Jeff did with his purple hair. He bore every ounce of sin and shame and pain from every sinful deed.  He bore it all.

I will say that the $100 was worth it to gain this lesson. I will never forget it. I think I’ll forever walk a little less proudly.  I think I’ll question myself a little more often.  I pray that God gives me grace in the midst of my stupidity, my vanity, my selfishness.  I pray He helps us understand the power of our influence, and the great cost of our selfish and stupid decisions.  It may have only been Jeff’s hair, but it represents so much more.  It represents Christ.

I’m thankful to report, five years later, that Jeff’s scalp has healed and no permanent damage was incurred.  I will never again try to alter my man.  He is perfect for me.  He is gracious, forgiving, gentle, merciful, loving. And I’ll forever understand just a little better the way Eve must have felt.  I’m ashamed to admit how much like her I really am. Thank You, Lord Jesus, for suffering the consequences of our sin.  I cannot say it enough. Thank You Lord Jesus.

{Thanks for reading.}

“Oh, I’m fine,” I answered.

But she could see in my eyes that I wasn’t. What was I supposed to say? Well, I’m reeling in pain because my husband is struggling and I can’t talk to anyone about it so please don’t ask me anymore. 

That would sum it up, I suppose.

Almost to a one, the times I have had the most inner pain have been the times struggling through things I couldn’t share with anyone else.  You’ve been there, right? Silent suffering is the hardest. And the times I’ve wanted to write a “How to cope when your husband is struggling” post all fell flat because I wasn’t sure how to write about it without exposing my own dear husband’s weakness. I mean, I wouldn’t want him to write a post entitled, “What to do when your wife’s a mess.” Right?

But really, it’s ridiculous to believe that anyone’s husband doesn’t struggle. If you married a human, you married One Who Struggles. Even if he’s confident, attractive, successful, whatever, he will have low times and the question is …

What do you do then?

I’d even go so far as to say that we all have someone in our lives who we look to as “The Strong One.” Whether a parent, a friend, a spouse, we usually are able to draw strength from someone we love.

But what about when the strong person isn’t strong?

What do we do then? 

A few years ago I had the painful privilege of walking with a precious friend through a marriage struggle. She is a godly woman, so I had the honor of getting an inside-peek at the godly ways she helped her husband through hard times. And over the years, as my own wonderful husband has endured the highs and lows of life, I’ve tried to practice these, although I’m convicted by how far short I have fallen most of the time.

So, for us all, a few thoughts on what to do when your strong person isn’t…  

::Go back to the Strongest Person. 

Perhaps it’s obvious, but no matter how strong our spouse is, they were never meant to be our stability. God alone is our stability. On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. If we look to any person to be our strong tower, we will quickly be discouraged and even embittered against that person. The truth is, no human being can bear the weight of your expectations. God alone can do that. So hang all your hope on Him.

Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever. (Ps. 73:25-26)

::Fight fear, not him. 

This proceeds from the first point, but usually what we’re battling is fear. When we place our hope and trust in a person, and that person begins to struggle and crumble, we battle fear because our strongest person isn’t really as strong as we wished. Or, we face fear because we’re afraid everyone will find out what a mess our lives really are. 🙂 When our strong person is struggling, we’re tempted to fight them. When Jeff is down, the bizarre thing that I do is get mad at him for being down. I get frustrated and find myself fighting with him instead of fighting for him. But when our confidence is in Christ, our Rock, we can rest secure and not walk in fear. We can fight in prayer for our spouse, remaining faithful at his side and speaking words of life and hope.

::Listen, don’t fix. 

Stereotypically, it is men who are always trying to fix stuff when women just want them to listen. But let’s be honest, we do our fair share of fixin’ too, don’t we? Especially when I’m ruled by fear, I just want to do whatever it takes to make it go away. Make the problem GO AWAY so I don’t have to deal with this discomfort anymore! But the problem is, that compulsive desire to fix is rooted in my own fear and selfishness, not in genuine love and concern for him. When we’re stabilized by Christ we have patience to listen long, to be slow to speak and slow to become angry (James 1:19), instead of feeling compelled to fix everything.

::Speak the truth in love. 

That said, as our husband’s (or friend’s) Christian sister, we have the responsibility to speak the truth in love. If there is an obvious issue, something that grieves God’s Spirit or is causing significant harm or damage to the person or family, speak this truth in love. There is a hysterical video Jeff and I laughed ourselves silly over this week. In this case the woman has the nail, but it can go either way …

::Ask for prayer, but share with care.

(I could’t resist making it all rhyme!) Do not–I repeat–do not vent about your husband’s sorrows to your girlfriend during a playdate, or on the phone with your mom, or anywhere that your children can hear. I have ONE trusted friend with whom I share things like this, and I still speak carefully, usually in general terms, seeking prayer about heart-issues and not just venting. Usually, the nitty-gritty details don’t need to be shared. Think carefully about what the heart-issue is (pride, insecurity, lust, anger) and ask for prayer for that. Simply consider how you would want your husband requesting prayer for you, if the tables were turned (and the tables often are!). When our hearts are set to truly honor and bless our husbands, the words we choose will be honoring and blessing as well. (And if you don’t know the heart issue or need help working through issues, consider a godly counselor! Asking for help is a sign of wisdom, not weakness!)

What have you found helpful when your strong person isn’t strong? Would you share with us and let us learn from your experience? Thanks so much for sharing, and reading.

Retail stores try but they can’t do it. Heart-printed silk boxers or Valentine’s Ale can’t change the fact that Valentine’s Day is all about women.

It will always be about women because we are the ones craving love. Craving romance. Guys should get a holiday called Deference Day, where all the women in their lives respectfully defer to them for one day. We’d serve them bacon and steak and beer for all three meals, listen to their ideas and say, “Wow! That’s great!”, rub their feet while they watch sports, cheer for them while they shoot a wild animal, then finish the day off in bed. Can you imagine how happy they’d be? The whole world would get the day off.

But until then we are left with Valentine’s Day. And  no matter how hard we try, Valentine’s Day will continue to be about the men showing love, romance, and affection to the women. Women love it.

Except for the ones who don’t have men. 

Or the ones who have men mean as snakes. 

My original post for today was a shortened version of our story, When God Broke My Heart. It’s a joy for me to re-read because it reminds me of God’s faithfulness, and of my man who still holds my heart 9 years later. He continues to romance my heart and there’s no one I’d rather spend my life with than him.

But I believe the spotlight belongs somewhere else today.

On the women for whom God has a special love.  God’s Valentines.

What is a Valentine anyway?

val·en·tine

 [val-uhn-tahyn] noun: a sweetheart chosen or greeted on this day.

Who has God chosen today to shower with His love? All of us, in some measure. We each woke up with breath in our lungs, a heart that beats, and a roof over our head. Whether or not someone was beside us in bed we all received the gift of His love this day. And I’d venture to say He will lavish all His children with grace-gifts today if we look closely and pick them out in the details of our life.

What if, today, we accepted the fact that this day is all about women? A day to show women they are loved beyond measure? Sure, it’d be wonderful if our husbands took us out to dinner, but what if Valentine’s Day could impact the world in a greater way? 

I must admit, I spent this morning in tears because of a broken heart. 

Why? Because there are millions of women starving for the love–any love–and do not know the measureless love of Jesus Christ. Will you watch this with me?

I believe with every ounce of my being that God has a special love for women. Throughout His word, over and over and over, we find His special care for the widow, the fatherless, the orphan. He took special care of Ruth, a widow, left destitute and picking up leftover grain in the fields. He took care of Rahab, a prostitute, who’s backstory we do not know but God blessed her with favor. And Jesus Christ himself, in his last moments on the cross, ensured that his own mother would be cared for after His death.

But God isn’t the only one giving women attention.

The enemy gives them plenty of attention as well. He wants nothing more than to destroy the crown of God’s creation. The wondrous creatures who reflect the beauty of God. And his diabolic work is alive and well, especially in Asia, today. Consider these stats:

• Young girls throughout Asia are ravenously abducted and forced into a life of prostitution with every agonizing day one step closer to an early death from AIDS.
• Widows in India bear the blame for their husband’s death. They’re shunned by their communities, rejected by their families and forced into an inhumane lifestyle. Tens of thousands take their own life just to end the pain.
• Every year in India more than 7,000 women are doused with kerosene and burned to death—by their husbands. The wife’s crime: an insufficient dowry.

It is no surprise that the suicide rate among young women in India is ten times higher than the world’s average.

And these are the women God loves. I wonder if, today, we might consider blessing THEM with a Valentine’s Gift. The gift of prayer. The gift of hope. $30 sends a female-missionary to tell them about Christ. $85 gives them a sewing machine so they can be freed from the ravages of poverty and oppression. 

If anything, please just be aware of the beautiful women in our world who want to be loved and romanced just as much as you do. 

Let’s ask God if perhaps He would use us to love them…

{You are loved. Happy Valentine’s Day and thanks for reading…}

—

*Also, looking for ways to give more to women like these? Wednesday, Feb. 15th, 6pm in Beaverton, I’m doing a workshop called Faithfully Frugal, easy ways to steward God’s resources and live simply, healthfully, frugally. It’s FREE and includes dinner and childcare. All are welcome, invite your friends. I’d love to see you there!

Yes, yes, the holiday of love is looming right around the weekend’s corner. Are you running for cover or making grandiose plans? You’ve probably picked up by now I’m not much of a roses-and-chocolate girl. I love my man who knows how to scrub toilets and take out trash. For me, the ultimate romantic gesture can be summed up in one sentence, “Babe, today while you’re writing and I’m taking care of the kids are there any chores you’d like me to do?”  I melt.

We all know by now that we each have different love languages, right? And no two couples are the same. But whether you’re a gifts girl or crave nothing but quality time or even  if, like me, you don’t care about leaving the house you just want the house that you’re in to be clean (!) — we all still need purposeful time alone with our spouse. Why? Tsh shares some great reasons:

1. We get to speak in complete sentences. (This week I attempted to make plans with Jeff for a family vacation while speaking to his back as he bathed both kids. I have no idea what we agreed upon.)
2. We get to be people other than parents. (Confession: I am a different person when we go out without kids. I even remember how to flirt!)
3. We get to talk about important stuff. (Not that “Do you need a lunch today?” isn’t riveting conversation, but date-night talk dives into the stuff of dreams and desires. It’s fresh breath for our souls.)
4. We remember that we like each other. (This is the kicker for me. Jeff and I truly have a blast together. He’s my best friend. I just forget sometimes because life is a whirlwind and we’re running fast, each holding a kid. But when we stop and I kiss that rough, whiskered cheek, I remember — he’s the one I want.)

*FYI: Wednesday, Feb. 15th, 6pm in Beaverton, I’m doing a workshop called Faithfully Frugal, easy ways to steward God’s resources and live simply, healthfully, frugally. It’s FREE and includes dinner and childcare. All are welcome, invite your friends. I’d love to see you there!