The Gettys sing and the notes ring out. Sweet unto the Lord. Like great bowls of incense, the fragrance of their praise rises to the heavens. Rick is there this week with hundreds of other pastors and Christian leaders. No two alike, they come from different walks of life with churches in different contexts. Inner City, suburban, rural, large, small, North, South, trendy, traditional. They have different gifts, abilities, and passions. They are regular guys. With hang-ups and messy lives. But one thing draws them. One person. Jesus Christ. And His beautiful gospel.  And for a moment, Chicago is transformed into a holy place.

“Holy, holy, holy!  All the saints adore Thee, casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea.”

I’ve been livestreaming most of the conference. Me here in Ohio, texting him in Chicago when something strikes me. Me weeping in my kitchen when I hear all of those voices (mostly men in this case) lifting their strong voices to the One who is enthroned above the heavens.

You see, we’ve always been “in it” together. Ministering for 15 years on college campuses. Attending conferences together, sitting through seminary classes together, planning and praying for our students together. Dragging the kids into the thick of it with us. Madison to the sorority houses with me and Caleb to hang with the “fellas” with Rick.  

But three years ago all of that changed. And we traded the college campus for the community. I can honestly say that we love it. Absolutely love it. It has far surpassed our expectations. I’ve never been a part of anything like Christ Community Chapel – Stow. Never.  

But, every once in a while the “in it” together part is harder for me to figure out now. Just sometimes. Like this.

When he heads off to a conference, most of me cheers him on. So thankful for his time with our other pastors. Knowing he needs that time with other men who will encourage him and challenge him in ways that I cannot.

But, I must admit that one small part of me sort of wishes I was there too. Like old times.

“Holy, holy, holy!  Lord God Almighty! All Thy works shall praise Thy name, in earth and sky and sea.”

The livestream plays on… it’s the final stanza of this great old hymn. He is in Chicago – in a sea of godly men and women who are grappling with what it means to pass on the Truth in this generation. I am in Ohio – surrounded by laundry and the kids’ lego creations. I have ironing to do, another writing project to tackle, and two little people to shape. Two little people who will have to decide what they think about the Truth too.

And as I iron the crease in Rick’s olive pants, the words wash over me afresh. “ALL Thy works shall praise Thy name.” ALL of them, Shan.

Do I believe that? Do I believe that an ironing board in Ohio is as holy a place as a Gospel Coalition in Chicago?

“Holy, holy, holy!  Lord God Almighty! All Thy works shall praise Thy name, in earth and sky and sea.”

Turns out, we are still “in it” together. Maybe it’s really not so hard to figure out after all. Just maybe.

And my voice joins theirs across the miles.

“ALL Thy works shall praise Thy name…”

There I said it. I’m still dealing with the reality of identifying myself this way. In fact, I’ve been meaning to say it for a while now. But, well, I keep putting it off.

That’s what putterers do. They We dabble. And ponder. And think about doing things. Lots of things. I mean, really. Let’s be realistic. The world is a cool place. There’s lots to do and see and be interested in. Lots.

They We also pile things. Everywhere.

Because they we have about 50 million different things we’re interested in.

People don’t talk about puttering very much. It’s not very American-dream-purpose-driven-ish.

 If you’re a creative type, you might totally “get” puttering. Although, artsy types are also often very passionate – so maybe they don’t putter as much. If they’re really captured by something, I mean.

If you’re Type A, you totally DO NOT “get” puttering. I know this because I’m married to Ultra-Type-A Man. When we did his personality profile for his seminary classes, he was most likened to Napoleon. There are only like 2% of him in the whole world. (Yes, I realize the whole Napoleon thing might mess with your perception of him as Pastor. But, he’s a darn good one; so that’s for another time.) Anyway, I’m guessing Napoleon didn’t putter much. And, maybe he even cut off the heads of people around him who did. (To clarify, my puttering has never driven Rick to violence. But, it’s safe to say that he doesn’t really “get” it… )

Here’s the funniest part of the whole puttering thing. I didn’t know I was a putterer until recently. I’m 40 years old and I’m still figuring out major things about myself. Go figure. (If you’re one of my 20-something CRU pals, I’m sorry. I know you were hoping you’d have it all figured out by 30 at the latest. But, here’s the plain, honest truth: you probably won’t.)

I’m pretty sure the reason that it took me so long to figure it out is just self-denial. I’m the oldest child. Always feeling very responsible. A bit of a perfectionist in some ways. (Just a bit. My sisters are laughing at this understatement. Unless you compare me to Ultra-Type-A Man. Then, it’s less than a bit.) Definitely very people-pleaserish and performance-oriented. The puttering thing aside, Ultra-Type-A Man and I really do have a lot in common and we’ve always been involved with ministries and organizations “on the move.” Puttering doesn’t really fit in with this whole scenario very well.

But, it’s time to just admit it. I AM A PUTTERER. Now, if only I could embrace it and know what to do with it.

They say confession is good for the soul. So, here are a few confessions from a newly identified putterer. 

1. The JoAnn Fabrics headquarters is near my home. So the JoAnn Etc store here is REALLY big and well-stocked. That is bad for me. Because I want to try everything. Knitting, sewing, jewelry-making, quilting, scrabooking, card-making, etc… On more than one occasion I have bought something there and had to take it back because I really don’t have to time or money to learn that new thing right now.
2. Who am I kidding? Shopping in general is bad for me. Because all kinds of random things interest me. Even if I don’t plan to buy them. This makes errand-running take twice as long as it should. (In fact, do you know how many cool and useful kitchen gadgets there are? I digress.)
3. I have a love-hate relationship with the internet. Why I love it: I can read and explore so many things on the internet.  Why I hate it: I can read and explore so many things on the internet. Bookstores and libraries. Same thing.
4. Saying “no” is hard for me. Because most everything sounds like a good idea to me. (Well, not everything. I’m pretty sure… Again, I digress.)
5. I don’t always finish well. My great ideas get interrupted by other great ideas and, well, I struggle with the follow through. This is a bit of a problem in a family where “McKees are never quitters” is the family mantra.
6. When I get around to it, I’m starting a file for all my great ideas of cool things to do, explore, photograph, and write about.
7. “When I get around to it” is a good bad putterer phrase. I would submit, actually, that puttering IS NOT the same as procrastinating. (But, that might be another list. This one is getting too long.)
8. Puttering and perfectionism can be a weird combo to have inside of one person. It can create a lot of inner turmoil and self-condemnation.
9. Puttering is hard in a smallish house. Especially if you share it with 3 other people and one of them is Ultra-Type-A-Man. (He has learned to be so patient and gracious with me on this.) If I could add one room to my house, it would probably be a putter room. A cool attic-type room where I could pile all my projects and interests and articles and books and stuff without driving my husband nutso. If you have a putter room, I’m very jealous. (Do you think God will have a putter room ready for me in heaven? Or does He hate that I putter? Hence the inner turmoil. Digressing. Again.)
10. I blame this whole puttering thing on my mom. Because blaming stuff on your parents is the really cool thing to do nowadays. And, I’m pretty sure it really is her fault. She’s the Queen Putterer.
11. Surely there’s a better way to describe us putterers. Maybe we’re just eclectic? (Yeah. I like that better. Because it’s hard to admit being a putterer.  At least it was for me.)
12. I wonder, is puttering just another form of ADD in disguise?

So, I’m a putterer an eclectic. Truth be told, it complicates things when you live in a culture of busyness and deadlines. And it’s harder to be intentional. But, it’s not all bad.

In fact, it’s part of what makes me a good writer…

When I actually follow-thru on one of my great ideas and get around to posting, that is.

Right now I’m in the middle of the book Radical by David Platt. It’s a challenging read. And I don’t mean that it has big words that are hard to read or convoluted thoughts that are challenging to follow. I mean that it is challenging the hidden corners of my heart. The subtitle alone is enough to make you squirm a little bit: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream. Ouch. That’s a little bit, well, uncomfortable.

Like I said, it’s challenging. And I’m only in the second chapter.

As I read, I’m wondering what does it look like to take back your faith from the American Dream? I mean, put some flesh on that one. Who do I know that is living that way? Is this just another fad in Christian circles or is this something I can really do? I still have a lot of wrestling to do as I consider Platt’s ideas. I really think he’s on to something. But, more on that later.

In the meantime, I wanted to share an example of someone who IS getting a little radical. It might not be for everyone but it is a pretty cool story of a Kentucky couple and their unusual wedding reception. It came to me through my friend Kait, who knows the bride personally. Read on…

Tanya Ferguson and Christian Torp are getting married this coming Labor Day and are hosting their entire neighborhood at their reception in Lexington. Instead of handing out favors, they will hand out canned goods and clothing to those in need.

 “We wanted our wedding to be about more than a dress and a fancy dinner,” Tanya said. “We live in this community surrounded by people who work hard just to be able to put a hot meal on their table. What better opportunity to care for our neighbors than at our wedding, an occasion that’s supposed to be the happiest day of our lives!” The couple has invited local service organizations to attend as well.

 The couple has purposely chosen to live in the struggling William Wells Brown neighborhood so they can provide legal assistance and other forms of help to those without. The groom has formed his own law practice dedicated entirely to providing affordable law services. It has been no easy feat for him to achieve.

“We want our neighbors, the church and our love for people to intertwine,” said the bride. “We recognize that our neighbors are not a charity case, but are deserving of respect and dignity. We have spent time with many of them and look forward to living and working together for our community,” she added.

Sounds a little like taking back your faith from the American Dream, doesn’t it? If you’d like to participate, the couple is accepting donations of food, meal service items, clothes and canned goods. Monetary donations will be used expressly toward providing these items. Donations can be sent to P.O. Box 861, Lexington, KY 40588.

He’s behind the project house stomping on pop cans for the recycling bin. No one knows he’s back there doing this thankless job. It’s only 1990 and recycling hasn’t even become very vogue yet. He’s alone in the alley and I watch him from my window. He in his Nike Vulturo hiking boots, cargo shorts and Denison tee. “Denison? Where’s Denison?”  I linger there a few minutes more and then on with my evening chores.

It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.  I was far from home, living in a huge house with 90 other students from around the country – my friend Cheryle was the only other person I even knew. We were on an adventure with Campus Crusade for Christ. Little did I know all the ways that summer would shape my life…

Not the least of which was that Denison guy that I’d spied in the alley.

I hadn’t been looking for love. In fact, I’d started the summer dating someone else from my own college. He was a great guy but conversations with roommates, some soul-searching, and a “Dear John” letter led to the close of that relationship.

It wasn’t more than a few days after I’d sent said letter that I had been paired up with the Denison guy to go do spiritual interest surveys on the boardwalk in Atlantic City.

By this time I knew his name was Rick. We’d met in the lobby a few weeks earlier when his first words to me were “cop a squat” as he pulled up a bench for Cheryle and me. I in my navy blue, Delta Gamma pull-over, hoping that my Greek letters would hide all the apprehension and insecurity I’d been feeling at meeting 90 new people. “Cop a squat? What the heck does that mean? Sort of a weird thing to say.”

That survey pairing was just random; but, looking back, we’re pretty sure God had His fingerprints all over that one. For we talked in between surveys and something began to stir within both of us. Interest was piqued. Interest became pursuit. That pursuit was received and blossomed into romance. In time the romance became something deeper and love was born between us.

But it was more than a summer of young love. It was a summer of deep spiritual challenge as our director, Jim Sylvester, encouraged us to live in the shadow of God’s amazing grace. Not only for our own lives but he implored us to also take that grace to a parched and dying world.

Our fledgling relationship took root in that soil – right from the beginning we talked of living for something more than the proverbial picket fence. Of a life that revolved around Someone worthy of everything we had to give.

That was nearly 20 years ago.

Yesterday we celebrated 18 years of marriage. Eighteen years of covenant life together – no matter what has or will come. Eighteen years of letting Jesus chip away the junk in our lives bit by bit as we laugh and cry and agonize and rejoice through life together.

Coincidentally, we celebrated it with our Community Group serving a meal to homeless people in downtown Akron. No silver or candlelight or wine. Just plasticware with big pots of chicken soup, donated cornbread and jugs of red punch.

I’m not sure I’d have it any other way. In fact, as I looked across the cafeteria last night at my man talking with a young man who has spent the last seven of his 25 years in and out of prison, I was sure of it.

I think it’s exactly the best way we could have spent our anniversary.

Isn’t that what we said 20 years ago when two college students sat on the rock jetty, stared out into hugeness of God’s Atlantic Ocean and dreamed of living for something more than the picket fence?

Happy Anniversary, Denison guy…

___________________________________________________________

I’m adding to my gratitude list today. So thankful for 18 years with the man who still gives me butterflies… and for the life we have together.

We were in the midst of a controversial war. A new president had just taken office. An American astronaut became the first human to set foot on the Moon. The most famous music festival of modern times “WOODSTOCK” took place on a New York Farm in August with more than 350,000 avid music fans in attendance. The Pontiac Firebird Trans Am was introduced. The Beattles released Abbey Road and performed their last public concert on the roof of Apple records.

On this very day in 1969, tragedy struck when the Australian aircraft carrier Melbourne collided with the U.S. destroyer Frank E. Evans in the South China Sea and 74 U.S. sailors were killed.

But June 3, 1969, was significant for another reason. On the other side of the world, another event was taking place. A smaller, but no less profound, moment in time. It was a short ceremony between a man and a woman who were pledging to walk through life together from that moment until death. It probably took less than half-an-hour. There were very few witnesses – they waited to tell family and friends until after the ceremony. There was no wedding party. Not much pomp. She wore a simple, stylish white dress instead of a wedding gown. He a coat and tie instead of a tuxedo. She was a recent high school grad from a simple, country town. He a recently enlisted private in the US Army. Within a few short days they would load everything they owned into their corvette and drive across the country to Fort Carson in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

They didn’t know it at the time for they didn’t give Him much thought, but God was presiding over that moment. He was there, uniting two distinct lives into one flesh. It would be years before they would invite Him from the fringes of their lives into their own hearts and, ultimately, to the Center of their family; but as they celebrate 40 years of marriage today both will readily admit that His grace was there all along. Wooing them; sustaining them; teaching them; even protecting them from themselves!

Today their marriage is a living testimony to the way that God’s grace can so permeate a marriage that by watching it, one gets a glimpse of God’s relationship with His bride, the Church. Their marriage is a picture of God’s greater story.

He by creating a safe haven where she can grow and flourish. Giving her time and encouragement to develop her gifts and passions. Leading with the heart of a servant. Listening to her perspectives and ideas.

She by willingly submitting to his leadership – even when it means a risk for her. Cultivating a dwelling that he loves coming home to. Pursuing excellence to bring him honor.  Biting her tongue when needed. Respecting his thought and initiative in their family and church.

In many ways on this day in 2009, we could say theirs is a charmed life. They are young for empty-nesters and are embarking on a whole new phase of life together.

When he comes home at the end of the work day, she has a creative meal ready and they have great conversation while they sit at the table together – each genuinely interested in the other’s day. Some nights they work in the yard together. Some nights they help a neighbor mow his meadow or serve in their church together. Some nights they simply sit on the deck and listen to the sounds of the woods behind their house together.

They have learned the art of good conversation as well as the ability to sit together in silence. They know each other’s quirks and rhythms – and they’re OK with those. Afterall, they have 40 years of history and practice. 

As I reflect on their marriage, I’m grateful for this legacy. I know that it wasn’t always a charmed life. Like every couple, they entered marriage with their own selfish ambitions and perspectives. Their foundational years were ones of holding God at bay. They were young and spent their first two years displaced from family and friends. Within a few months of saying “I do”, they were pregnant with their first child and then dealing with all the transition a new baby brings. In the years that followed, they would have their share of relational and financial strain. By today’s standards, they could have bailed at any time. But they stuck it out.

And, they didn’t just learn to live together. They learned to live together WELL. Like one of those great, beautiful trees that offers shade and safety and splendor for others. All that cultivating and pruning through all those seasons, year after year, has produced a bountiful harvest.

That harvest is the most precious gift they will ever offer me. For I was that first-born child. For 39 of those 40 years, I’ve been watching and learning. I paid attention as the tree grew. I enjoyed the protection of its branches and the beauty of its fruit. And, now, 17 years into growing my own tree, I will continue that legacy.

Let this day be full of revelry and celebration – both of the tree and the amazing grace of God that has nourished it these 40 years.