Since returning from Haiti, I’ve been oddly more introspective than normal.

Which is, again, odd, because I’m typically pretty darn introspective.

I’ve been analyzing the temptations and opportunities that cross my way, both subtle and bold.

Topics I could write about…or not.

Relationships I could develop…or not.

Ways I could respond to people…or not.

Things I could dwell on in my mind…or not.

Two immediate “temptations” (if you call them that) I face regularly are to be sensational and to be trendy.

Why?

Sensational and trendy usually brings in attention and response.

Attention and response makes me feel important and valued (yes, we just talked about this…)

Sensational and trendy makes me appear “relevant” and “edgy.”

It makes me popular.

But sensationalism and trendiness also is an inch deep and lasts for a split second.

It typically has no legit, long-lasting worth.

So I’ve decided to make a list of characteristics I want to strive for – just for me – in how I want to live out this life I have.

Sacred instead of sensational.

Timeless instead of trendy.

Prophetic instead of popular.

Generous instead of entitled.

Meek instead of aggressive.

Quiet instead of attention-seeking.

Humbly prayerful instead of demanding.

Patient instead of prideful.

Inviting instead of isolating.

Understanding instead of judgmental.

This list is in no way complete; rather…it’s just a sketch of traits I need to develop and cultivate in my life. These are areas where I am weak and tempted and need strength and support.

What are some of your “instead of” statements?

On Saturday, Michael Hyatt, my friend and CEO of Thomas Nelson (who is printing Permission to Speak Freely) tweeted the ECPA’s 50 Bestsellers List for March 2010.

I noticed a few interesting things in the list:

• Even though this list is for March 2010 faith-based bestsellers, only 21 of the 50 had been published in the last twelve months.
• The average price point for the books published in the last twelve months was considerably higher ($19.64) than the older books on the list ($15.39).

This made me think two things:

• Some books will live long. These books typically have strong writing, meet a universal “felt need,” or the author has a loyal following (a celebrity, a pastor of a large church, etc.). These books will continue to spread in both breadth (how many people read them) and depth (more people developing loyalty to that author).
• The recession is not to blame for declining book sales. Large groups of people are willing to pay more money for good content.

It also made me ask the question, “Why aren’t there more recently published books on the list? What does the market want that current authors and publishers aren’t providing?”

I did a survey on my blog last summer, and a majority of you read fifty books or more a year, so it’s safe to say you are “the market.”

Would you indulge me a bit and share what content in books adds value?

What disappoints you?

What determines if you purchase a book – Word of mouth? Previous work? Random chance?

Thanks in advance for sharing your thoughts. They will help shape me as an author and I can assure you there are people in the publishing industry who eagerly await your response too.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice -
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations -
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life you could save.

*(Mary Oliver – Dream Work)

A few weeks ago, I was invited to be the guest on the Samson Society podcast with Nate Larkin & David Mullen.

We talked about everything from cycling across the country, to life as a former preacher’s kid, to women and porn addiction (as well as drug and alcohol abuse), confession, and living a transparent life.

Most interviews I’ve done in the past don’t dig this deep – an uncomfortable deep – but Nate and David did a fabulous job asking questions and responding with truth and grace.

You can stream or download the interview here.

I have been working on writing this post for a few days now, and somehow (probably due to late-night blogging) it accidentally was published yesterday. I took it down about an hour after it went up, because it wasn’t ready yet…but a surprising number of people responded in that short time frame.

I decided to re-post it after editing it a little bit more. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused!

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Some people have termed FlowerDust.net an “uber” blog.

I don’t exactly know what that means.

If it means it’s been around for five years, and has a good number of visitors, then yes, I suppose you can call it that.

Over the last two years, it’s been interesting to see how my blog traffic has changed with the seasons.

If I ask questions about sexuality, or talk about controversial church issues, my stats light up.

If I talk about what the Bible says about taking care of the poor, or share stories from trips I’ve taken (Haiti, India, Uganda – soon to be Moldova and Russia), my stats tank.

Here’s an example of pre-Haiti trip stats and post-Haiti trip stats.

At first, this made me really sad.

And then the sadness turned into a weird kind of angryness. (Angriness? Angry-ness? Is that even a word?)

Anyway, I don’t really ever get angry.

So that was strange for me.

With the assumption this blog has also been categorized as a “church” blog (whatever that means) why do the posts that should be resonating with us the deepest get a third of the traffic?

Angry feelings.

More angry feelings.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

Then I realized something.

I would much rather have a small group of people who really, really cared than a large group of people who just showed up to just show up.

I don’t want to be a “church” blog, in the sense that we talk about the stupid stuff that nobody agrees on. That’s not what this blog is designed to be.

I want to be a “church” blog in the sense that we’re a community that cares for those overlooked.

You know…like…how the church is supposed to be.

If that means my stats suck and the “uber” blogstar label gets removed, so be it.

I’d choose a hundred readers with big hearts and the action to back it up any day of the week over a million readers who change the channel when it gets uncomfortable to watch.

Two years ago, a trip to Uganda with Compassion International changed my life. It didn’t happen immediately. I wrestled with what I saw, and what I knew the Bible said, and how I loved living my own comfortable life.

My friend (and the designer of this blog) Brad is on a trip right now with Compassion and I’ve asked him to share some of his thoughts with you.

—–

“When African Eyes Are Watching”

Those of you who have followed Anne for a while may remember her trip to Uganda with Compassion in February of 2008. She was part of the very first Compassion Bloggers trip. It was her posts from Africa that gave me my first inside look at how Compassion works. I gained a deeper appreciation for Compassion as an organization by seeing what they did through her eyes.

Never would I have imagined when I read the posts from that first blogging trip that I would be in Africa myself with Compassion just over two years later. And yet here I am.

I’ve only been in Kenya for four days now but already Africa has melted my heart. I’ll be leaving on Thursday but I’m leaving part of my heart here when I go.

The thing that has just rocked me to the core are the eyes of the children I see.

They’re absolutely riveting.

Like this little Maasai girl I saw when we visited a Compassion Project on Saturday…

Or this precious little girl I met at the Kabuku Compassion project on Friday…

or these adorable children who kept peeking back at me when we attended a Kenyan church on Sunday (seriously…how can you pay attention in church when you’ve got adorable faces like that staring at you?)

The reason I love looking into their faces is because I can see the power of child sponsorship in their eyes. Every face you see in those pictures represents a sponsor who has stepped forward to release that child from poverty.

For only $38/month (less than the cost of eating out once a month) you can ensure a child has access to education, medicine, nutritious meals and vocational training. You can read some of my first-hand accounts (and those of the other bloggers who are on this trip with me) of real people I’ve encountered who are being pulled out of the worst kinds of poverty through Compassion intervention and sponsoring relationships.

Anne has already done such an amazing job of telling Compassion’s story through this blog but perhaps there are some of you who haven’t yet taken the leap.

Can I encourage you to step up and make a difference in the life of a child? A small monthly investment from you means the difference between poverty and hope for these children.

Compassion is a one-to-one sponsorship organization which means you’ll be connected with your sponsored child through more than just a monthly check. You’ll be able to write letters to and receive letters from your sponsored child (here’s an example of a letter I recently received). You may even one day be able to meet your sponsored child like I did this week.

These beautiful African eyes have melted my heart this week…

…when they’re watching, I just can’t look away.

Click here to see Kenyan children waiting for sponsors right now.

Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies and Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love became runaway best sellers in the emerging category of memoirs.  Readers were drawn like magnets to Lamott’s faith journey, set amongst her left-wing family in California and they were equally smitten with Gilbert’s personal growth as she explored Italy, India and Indonesia.

Meet Sarah Cunningham.

Sarah is the author of Picking Dandelions: A Search for Eden Among Life’s Weeds (Zondervan 2010).

On one hand, Sarah is quite different than Lamott and Gilbert. She grew up in the cornfields of Michigan. Her parents were Southern Baptists. They voted Republican. She’s been married to one man, a college sweetheart, for seven years.

In spite of those differences, there are some things in Lamott and Gilbert that you’ll find in Sarah too.

Honesty.
Humor.
Quirkiness.
Guts to explore and laugh at life’s dysfunctions.

Sarah Cunningham’s new memoir, Picking Dandelions: A Search for Eden Among Life’s Weeds, uses some of the same approach to delve into the quirkiness and humor on the other side of the religious and political spectrum.

Take how Sarah journaled her prideful thoughts for a week straight…something she reports backfired because people don’t make 4,000 page journals. Or the heart to heart talk she has with God in which she cites Drew Barrymore’s career while praying (as if God is impressed by an occasional pop culture reference, she says). Or her story that ends with this line: “Jesus wouldn’t charge people to pee.”

In the end, Sarah’s loose collection of stories accomplishes something insightful too. A subtle theme hangs in the background suggesting that humans, especially those on a quest for God, cannot afford the luxury of unchanged living.

It’s sort of refreshing that Sarah, raised in the right wing, can weave elements of faith into a spiritual memoir too because it suggests that there are valid, messy spiritual discoveries for all of us, no matter what corner of the earth or political landscape we grow up on.

Intrigued? Learn more about Picking Dandelions: A Search for Eden Among Life’s Weeds.

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What’s a memoir that’s impacted you?

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Disclosure of Material Connection: This is a “sponsored post.” The company or identity who sponsored it compensated me via a cash payment, gift, or something else of value to write it. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

People who know me well would call me a little bit compulsive.

I take that as a compliment.

I know everybody has their quirks, and one of mine just happens to be finishing things. I love making lists. I love marking things off lists. I’ll even put something on a list that I’ve completed just so I can mark it off. I can’t stand for the shower curtain to be open, the front door to be unlocked, or things to be crooked.

Things must be finished.

There is a Point A.

There is a Point B.

When life gets stuck between the two, I go a little bit crazy.

Most of you probably read my first blog post about Haiti. You read my Point A.

You read some of the in between.

But even though I’ve been home for two weeks, I haven’t landed at Point B.

I haven’t been able to sign off on the bottom of my trip and file it away in my “Life Experience” folder.

It unfinished, and it’s driving me crazy.

There are so many emotions to sort through, and some of them aren’t pretty.  There are emotions I don’t want to write about publicly on a blog because I don’t want to seem like a jackass…or vulnerable.

…Like the anger I’m feeling toward the lack of relief happening on the ground.

…The pride (fueled by frustration) I feel when I talk to someone who’s already moved on and forgotten about it since they wrote a check a month ago.

…I fight back tears wondering how my friend Jean is, with his newborn baby and family of nine. Did they find adequate shelter before it rained? Are they safe?

…I feel guilty knowing how much my cat’s food costs and how that could feed a family for a week in Haiti.

…I feel confused because I wonder how the Haitians can have so much strength, hope and determination when they have been ignored for so long, and are still being ignored by most. Why do I get pissed just because my prescription medicine isn’t ready when they said it would be?

I’ve done everything I can to complete my “process.” I’ve gone for long drives with good music. I’ve taken naps (I promise — sleep helps me process!). I’ve exercised. I’ve stared out my window in my living room at the big trees in my backyard. I’ve prayed. I’ve read. I’ve talked to friends. I’ve talked to strangers.

And yet I remain stuck, somewhere between my heart and my head and Haiti.

This experience, for me, is unfinished.

That is the only conclusion I can make after two weeks of trying to figure it all out. As I spoke to my friend today about this predicament, I can’t help but wonder if it’s supposed to be unfinished.

Maybe Haiti isn’t an experience I can file away like I have other trips. Maybe the stories don’t just become stories I share about in a book or on a stage or on a blog, but they are stories that actually shift my DNA. Maybe God’s slowly rewiring me, bringing me in alignment with his heart for the poor.

Which by all means, I thought I had already figured out. People pay me to talk about God’s heart for the poor. That qualifies me as an expert, right?

(Just goes to show…)

I leave you with no grandiose words of enlightenment.

No resolution.

Only this verse, that I was reminded of today by a sign at an old Presbyterian church by my house.

“Return to me with all your heart…” (Joel 2:12)

I’m not sure what the next step looks like — to return to God with all my heart. I didn’t know I had gone off track, and you know what? Maybe I haven’t. Maybe it’s the “all your heart” part that I need to keep in mind.

There’s something about connecting to the forgotten, the oppressed, and the overlooked that connects us to the very heart of God. Jesus talks about it in Matthew 25.

May we not forget Haiti and in that, not stray far from our Father’s heart. May we be generous with the money we send, but realize our hands and feet are needed on the ground as well. May we not become fatigued and apathetic because the need is so great, fully knowing we serve a God who is more than capable to do so much through us.

And may we return to God with every part of our hearts…not just the easy pieces we can understand or logically process. May we let the tension and the uncomfortable sense of being overwhelmed take us over, so that we can see redemption in it’s purest light. May we realize we are all poor and we are all in need of rescue.

—

PS: (EDIT: This trip has been postponed…I’ll still be going back. Just not next week.)

An interesting twist to this story has emerged. As I was in the middle of writing this post, I was asked to return to Haiti next week for a few days. (More on that next week.)

At first, I said yes, hoping that it would provide the resolution I need.

Instead, I’m going fully knowing that the story will likely become even more unraveled, and less complete, and hopefully that will guide me – and all my heart – more closely to the heart of God.

As unfinished as it may remain, I’m going to try to be okay with that.

“What goes in must come out.”

That adage is something I always heard growing up, especially from my parents when I would read R.L. Stine books as a kid.

And they were right.

When I was ten years old, I wrote my first “book,” which was about 80 pages long in a spiral bound notebook.

It was about a girl who, after a basketball game, went to a convenience store and drank a sports drink that was poisoned. In order for her to not be harmed by the poison, she had to give it to other people, poisoning them.

She started by poisoning her younger brother.

Somehow, one of my parents must have found my “book” and out of concern for my younger brother’s life, quietly removed it from our wholesome Christian home.

And I started therapy.

I really didn’t start therapy then, but I’ve always remembered that the things I soak my remaining brain cells in will show in other areas of my life.

A few weeks ago, I shared that I would have an opportunity to thank a former teacher in my life for the influence he had. I didn’t mention this in the earlier post, but he’s one of three people I dedicated Permission to Speak Freely to, as he taught me how to write from my heart.

He’s now a brilliant teacher at a prestigious academy in Pennsylvania, and last Monday, I got to spend some time with him (see, here’s a picture of us), hanging out in his English classes and clearing cobwebs that have been forming in my head since I was a junior in High School.

Most of us have read some of the “classics” in our high school or college days. Melville. Twain. Hemmingway. Homer. Salinger. (Etc., Etc., Etc.)

If you’re anything like I am, I left those books behind with my prom dress.

After spending time in Mr. Bennett’s classes, listening to sixteen year olds discuss the greatest line in American literature (“All right then, I’ll go to hell” – Huck Finn) I began thinking, “These kids understand classic literature more than I do,” and as the visiting “professional” author, felt entirely like a poser.

“Have you read this?”

“Ummm…once in seventh grade.”

“Do you remember the line about…”

“Never read that one.”

“Last year, when you guys read…”

“Crap.”

In the midst of jokes about Hemmingway and my feelings of inadequacy, I made a decision.

If I want to write timeless content, I should probably read timeless content.

Because what goes in must come out.

Before I wrote Mad Church Disease, I had spent my “ministry” years reading “ministry” books and lo and behold, produced a “ministry” book of my very own.

With Permission to Speak Freely, I had ventured more into memoirs, essay collections, poetry, and spiritually contemplative books and I think it’s fair to say the tone of PTSF reflects that.

The goal of any writer is to become a better version of themselves (and not give into the temptation to be the next Anne Lamott, Donald Miller, David Sedaris, or Elizabeth Gilbert).

As writers, we should hone in to cultivate our own voice and make it the best it can be.

That only happens with time.

What can we do with our time to develop ourselves into timeless writers?

We have to nurture our creative spirits, and that looks different for each of us. But within that universal pursuit, find authors who have proven themselves as staples, not trends, that speak to you. Find poets who connect with your soul on a level brief metaphors can speak to. Find music that causes your mind to journey into abstract places. Find places in nature where time stops and the colors, the smells, and the sounds pour into you, because you are a piece of nature yourself.

And write…

Workshops are good (I guess, I’ve never actually been to a writing workshop), and how-to books can be beneficial. I own my fair share of them.

But remember, practicality is rarely a pathway to creating art.

Most art isn’t practical.

If it was, it probably wouldn’t move us in the way that art often does.

—–

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to share about Compassion International at a church in Virginia. The Sunday I spoke was just three days after I returned from Haiti. One of the things I shared was about how we can’t wait for the government to help Haiti. We have to help now.

When we were there, the relief effort we saw happening was minimum. I can count on one — maybe two — hands how many relief trucks we saw.

And I can count on one finger how many UN food lines we encountered.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I realize there is relief work happening in Haiti. And yes, even some via various government agencies.

However, I can tell you from my firsthand (yet admittedly unprofessional) experience the most efficient way aid is getting to the people who need it the most is through organizations that don’t have to work their way through the mysterious and convoluted bureaucracy that’s at the airport, where aid is being delegated.

That is where Compassion International comes in. If you’ve been around my blog any given length you’ll know my heart beats for the mission of Compassion.

Because Compassion was on the ground, assisting children, families, and communities through local churches in Haiti before the earthquake happened, they already have the infrastructure in place that guarantees the money that is being donated is going directly where it needs to go, without it taking a long detour around various government and non-government organizations.

It goes from your wallet, to their headquarters in Colorado Springs, to their national office in Haiti, where it is then distributed through a time-tested and culturally proven system to help release children from poverty.

Why am I pushing this now?

Because there is an amazing event called Help Haiti Live in Nashville tonight (Saturday, February 27) benefiting Compassion’s work in Haiti. It’s at 7:30 pm CST and if you can make it, you can still get tickets for the actual concert.

If you can’t make it, you can watch it online for free here.

Yes, watch it online for free.

But be generous in your donation.

Be confident with it also. Because I can personally assure you that it won’t get tied up in red tape.

We can’t wait for the government to fix Haiti. We can’t wait for the millions of dollars of supplies to reach people who haven’t eaten for a month and a half. We are charged both Scripturally (and morally, if you don’t subscribe to a Christian faith) to care for mankind.

Don’t wait.

I’ve seen it with my own eyes and touched it with my own two hands.

Haiti can’t afford for you to not step up now.