Are there additional things you shouldn’t say at this point? Oh, yes. Trust me, these are all real questions that were asked of people I know who’ve adopted or fostered. Some apply predominantly to people who adopt or foster children of different ethnicities; some to any child.

1. What’s her real mother (or father) like? (I am her real mother. On one friend’s first Mother’s Day after adoption a guy questioned whether having an adopted child made her a mother or not . Really? Is God your “real” father when you’ve been adopted into his family? If you really must be nosy about the child’s biological parents, call them that or birth parents.)
2. What does he eat besides rice (or whatever food is traditional to his country)? (This was asked about a baby from China. The mother’s answer: “Seriously? What baby eats rice?”  Oh, and they also asked her if he understood English. Um, about as well as any other 6-month-old baby.)
3. Is she YOURS? (Yes, whether or not she came from my womb, she is mine.)
4. Don’t you realize your going to drive down the property values in our neighborhood? (Yes, that’s how we make decisions on sharing life with a child—by how it affects property values.)
5. You won’t be offended if we don’t have her over to play with our kids, will you? We don’t want her being a bad influence on our kids. (We’d love for you to reject our kids, thank you!)
6. You’ve done the best you could, considering where they came from. (I know this comment is meant to be encouraging when your adopted kid rebels or a foster or adoptive placement doesn’t work out, but don’t say it. It’s only slightly better than, “Well what could you expect?” What we hear, as a parent who loves that child, is your child is so damaged, nothing could help, not even your love. Just say you’re sorry we’re going through this and you will pray.)
7. You’re too hard on him. OR You’re too easy on him. (You really don’t know the history of this child and what makes him feel secure or insecure or react inappropriately. Allow us to parent as we see fit.)
8. She’s darling. I can’t imagine her ever behaving like that! (If we choose to confide in you about our child’s behavioral issues, don’t doubt our word. What you see in public can be a far cry from private behavior, particularly if a child suffers from reactive attachment disorder [RAD]. The closer you are to a RAD child, the more likely you will feel some of the child’s ire. It hurts deeply to think your friends don’t believe you or believe you must be causing the problem by your bad parenting.)
9. For foster parents: Do they pay you well? Only slightly less crass than: Are you in it for the money? (Yes, there are a foster parents who take in children and spend little on them and pocket the cash, but most foster parents spend far more on their children than they receive. Unless you see signs of abuse, always assume they are doing this out of a heart of love, not for the money they get.)
10. Would you do it again, knowing what you know now? (How is that question helpful? It’s another form of “I told you so” from those who were incredulous when we first mentioned it. You don’t ask people whose biological children rebel if they wish they’d never had them, so don’t ask us.)

So what do you do? You listen. You be supportive. You follow the parents rules when you care for their child. You pray. You treat them as you would any other family, because that is what they are—a family, however God brought them together. If you do that, you will be the people both parents and child will treasure for the rest of their lives.

A friend or relative tells you they’re considering adoption or foster care. Your eyes get big. Your mind runs wild. Your lips purse. If you’re smart you’ll keep them pursed.

What the potential parents don’t need are your opinions. Or your warnings. Or your fears.

When Les and I told people we were bringing Joy and her sister Debby to live with us and working for adoption, the responses were . . .  well, let’s just say they weren’t encouraging. Yes, Joy and Debby were 14 and 15. Yes, it was scary. But believe me, we wouldn’t have told people if we hadn’t already been sure we were doing this.

I surveyed some friends and relatives who have done fostering or adopting. Below are 11 things they and we wish people had never said to us before we adopted:

1. Why would you want to do this? (Really, do you ask people that when they are having a baby?)
2. Why don’t you just have your own? OR Weren’t you able to have kids? (Since when is it polite to inquire about someone’s reproductive life?)
3. They are troubled (or damaged) kids, and you don’t want all the headaches. (Because you have some guarantee that your child will never cause you a moment of heartache?)
4. Look were they came from! OR You won’t know anything about their family. (Because there’s no nuts in your extended family? And you know every detail of your extended family?)
5. It costs too much to adopt. OR How much did they cost? (“Yikes,” said my friend Deanna. “I usually explain that we didn’t ‘buy’ them. We paid for services to bring them home to us.” And besides children aren’t worth the expense, right?)
6. Kids in foster care are way too much work. (And naturally born children are a piece of cake? And we don’t do hard things?)
7. Don’t close your eyes at night. OR Did you hear about that foster kid who killed his foster parents (or burnt down their house)? (Thank you for that. We never thought about the issues. And we really should let fear ruin our lives.)
8. Wow, I would never do that! (which implies we’re idiots) OR Wow, I could never do that! (which treats us as saints—we’re neither.)
9. Your poor REAL child, this will ruin his/her life. (They are ALL real children, and it takes more than a sibling—even a difficult one—to ruin a life.)
10. How can you love a child that isn’t “yours”? (To which my friend Lynda innocently answered on a day where she’d had enough: “I know you married your cousin, but my husband wasn’t related to me before we got married and I love him very much, so I know loving someone who doesn’t share my DNA works!”)
11. Those kids are so lucky you’re adopting (fostering) them. (As my friend Deanna said: “We feel like we are the ‘lucky’ ones. Blessed is probably a better word. Blessed that God would choose us to invite these wonderful little people to share their lives with us! Also, if you think about everything adopted children go through…I wouldn’t call it lucky.”)

So what do you say?

The same things you would say to anyone who tells you they are expecting:

• Congratulations!
• I’m so happy for you!
• Can I throw you a shower?
• What do you need?
• We can’t wait to meet him/her/them!

Be supportive. That’s what your friends really need.

The chamber is trying to encourage everyone in the community to buy local for these reasons:

• More money stays in the community.
• Local jobs are created and sustained.
• The local community and economy are strengthened.
• Quality of life is improved.
• Customer service is enhanced.

Do you buy local? Why or why not?

I’ve been trying to shop more at my local independent bookseller and to boycott Amazon because of their bullying of state governments, unfair taxation stance, and poor working conditions (like no air conditioning in their warehouses). I did break down and buy two new hardbacks from favorite authors last week when my husband was ordering from Amazon. My local bookshop rarely carries new hardbacks.

In season we buy most of our produce from local farms. How can you not when you live in Amish country? But I won’t give up tropical fruits that aren’t grown locally, and I usually buy those at Costco because I know their quality and taste.

There are several local restaurants I like—for instance, Cafe Chocolate and Tomato Pie Cafe in Lititz and Rachel’s Creperie in Lancaster—but I’m never giving up Panera or Carrabba’s or Texas Roadhouse (who could resist those rolls?!).

What about you? Are you consciously trying to shop more from local and independent merchants? If so, I’d love to hear your reasons why you think it matters in the comment section. And if you don’t think it’s necessary, I’d love to hear your opinions too.

This morning I wanted to wallow. I debated whether it was better to stay in bed all day with a brain-candy book or to run away and spend the day shopping and eating (Panera, of course). But I knew at the end of the day, either option would lead to self-loathing. 

So to avoid feeling worse at the end of the day, I put on my big-girl panties and got on with it. Here’s what I did to combat the sadness:

1. Went to yoga and the pool—I only have my yoga class once a week, and I like it, but I just didn’t want to go today. I was pretty sure it would help my mood, though, so I dragged myself there. I felt better—at least for the hour in class and afterwards while in the pool.
2. Read my Bible—No, it doesn’t automatically lift my mood, but it does remind me that there’s a God who cares. In today’s reading, I saw this verse, Psalm 18:6: “In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help.” Yes, I do, and I can.
3. Completed one of the oldest things on my to-do list—I took care of something that’s been on the list since about October. It didn’t take me that long, and maybe it’s not done the best way it could have been, but there was great satisfaction in crossing it off the list.
4. Finished a project that isn’t due for two weeks—I took care of everything I needed for a speaking engagement that’s coming up at the end of the month, and it felt great to have it done in advance.
5. Read a good book—I still squeezed in some pleasure reading; it’s good for the soul.
6. Ate healthy food—Berries and fresh salmon, carrots too, were part of today’s feasting. (I also ate a hamburger and fresh-made chips, but they were flavorful!)
7. Ate chocolate—No comment needed.
8. Owned up—I shared what was making me sad with someone who cares—my husband Les. Burdens halved, and all that.

I feel a bit better tonight. Being compassionate to myself helped. The situation that caused the sadness hasn’t changed, but I think I will be emotionally better able to handle it tomorrow and the day after that.

What do you do to deal with the blues when they strike?

Please note: This chapter was written several years ago. Some of the activities we supported then have changed, but the principles of the illustration remain the same.

Neighborhood Mission

It can become very easy as “do-gooders” to throw money, or even prayers, at causes and feel it is enough. We go on living in our sanitized world. We take our abundance for granted. That’s why I believe it’s important for me to be involved in social compassion here at home. I need to walk among those our society leaves behind, recognize the advantages I have been granted and do something to make the situation more equitable. The disciples were first sent to minister in their local towns and cities, and I must venture out and do the same.

I still have to remember that I can’t do it all. And so, as I look for the places and ways God wanted me to serve locally, I need to revisit the things that concerned me most. I pray about different areas of service, and choose one or two that I can commit to faithfully. Over the years, this has meant serving in different areas, each one using one of my gifts.

For a few years, my love of reading led me to work as a tutor for English-as-a-second-language students. Their willingness to learn inspired me. Their questions about our inconsistent language made me smile. Their friendships warmed my heart and enriched my prayer life.

At other times, my love for children has led me to establish “big sister” type arrangements with several kids who needed an accepting adult in their lives. It only cost a bit of time, a few hours a month spent focused on them. It only cost a bit of money, making sure birthdays and Christmas were special, not with an abundance of gifts, but with presents that fit their interests. It did, however, cost a great deal of love—I found the children stole my heart—and my husband’s as well.

In our case, losing our hearts led to taking Debbie and Joy into our home, to work toward adoption. It was not a move I had ever anticipated. It was a much greater commitment than I ever planned on making. And that is one scary thing about following Jesus into the lives of others. He may gently bring you to a place you never thought you would be, and what joy awaits you.

But what pain may come, too. Debbie chose to leave our family after a year and a half, just before custody was finalized. Joy stayed and brought the joy her name promised but also pain as she later rebelled and made poor choices. Nevertheless, the girls enriched our lives and we, theirs.

Loving Debbie and Joy, and others in similar circumstances, heightened my awareness of how vital a stable home is to a child’s development and future success. Living in substandard housing, being forced to move often because of rising rent costs, makes children insecure. Therefore, now that Joy was grown, I wanted to be involved with our local Habitat for Humanity affiliate. Habitat’s mission of providing everyone a simple, decent place to live was one I could identify with.

Unfortunately, most tools, when placed in my hand, become tools of destruction, usually to my own person. I have found ways to serve, though, and use my unique abilities. I can organize a work crew and get them to the site. My writing and organizing skills have proved valuable on their fund-raising committee. And every now and again, they allow me to pound a few nails (some of them are even in straight).

Once I have settled on one or two ongoing ministries of service, I politely decline most other ongoing ministry opportunities. I can do this without guilt, knowing this is where God has placed me. I still enjoy participating in single service days with my church family, whether it’s serving one evening in a soup kitchen or planting a garden for an elderly woman. But I don’t feel guilty about not committing more time or money. I know my place in God’s design, and until God clearly changes it, that’s where I’ll serve.

Justice Mission

I’m white, upper middle class, raised in baby-boom suburbia with all the advantages it offered. My dad was an upper-level manager with a large corporation, one that gave me a scholarship that paid for half of my college education. To put it bluntly, I’m privileged. And even if I didn’t have all those advantages but just had an average American lifestyle, I’m still privileged, still richer than most people in our world.

I can’t just thank God for blessing me by allowing me to be born in this country, to my parents. I need to look at ways to change our society and our world so others have equal access to opportunity, regardless of the color of their skin, their gender or the country they were born in.

Unfortunately, impacting the injustice that is part of our politics and or economy is an area I’m not yet very good at. I haven’t really found my place, but I’m asking God to show me. I joined Bread for the World, an organization that lobbies for elimination of policies that contribute to world hunger. And I signed up at One.org to receive e-mails about how each one of us can impact our world to eliminate poverty. With their encouragement and sample letters, I occasionally write or e-mail my governmental leaders to encourage changes in unjust policies.

I also joined Co-op America (now Green America), which informs me of what corporations are doing in terms of sweatshops, environmental issues and care for their employees. I have written a few times to corporations or retailers I frequent about their unjust manufacturing and purchasing policies when they make the news. Just this year, God began to challenge my buying habits, asking me to take these issues into consideration, even if it meant spending more and owning fewer things. I struggle to obey, to pass up a sale, but it’s all part of the tension on my tightrope.

In this arena, I’m still a novice, testing my wings. Frankly, it’s easy to ignore the need to change the rules that have led to my “winning” the game of life. I still find myself swinging back and forth on the do something/do nothing pendulum, letting guilt be my chief motivator. But I know I’m a work in progress; God will bring me, even here, to my place.

What was to follow this were chapters that described different areas of service in hunger, housing, education, health care, employment, environment and opportunities.

Please note: This chapter was written several years ago. Some of the activities we supported then have changed, but the principles of the illustration remain the same.

“You can do what I can’t do. I can do what you can’t do. Together we can do something beautiful for God.”

Mother Teresa

Here’s how the search for God’s place has played out in my life. I share it so you can see the process, not to goad you into any particular ministry or path. God has your own journey mapped out for you. Enjoy discovering it!

Global Mission

After asking God to show me my place on the global front, I again looked at my interests and passions. The underdog, those without hope. So my husband and I chose Haiti as the focus of our global giving and prayer, based solely on the fact that it is the poorest country in our hemisphere—a place filled with “underdogs.” By focusing on one place, I could feel I was making a difference, rather than scattering potshots across the globe.

We started by sponsoring a child in Haiti through Compassion International, one of several good sponsorship organizations. Our ongoing monthly support, not much more than a dollar a day, provides clothing, food and an education for our little boy Samuel. His letters encourage us to keep on, showing our gifts are providing hope. Recently, he excitedly told us that, with the extra money we sent him for Christmas, he bought a goat. If that doesn’t cause me to stop and think of all my abundance and to learn contentment, I don’t know what will.

When we were ready to expand our commitment, we decided to do a small part to meet the housing needs of families in Haiti. We decided to give a percentage of our mortgage costs every month to Habitat for Humanity in Haiti so a family can have a decent place to live. We didn’t make any grandiose commitment. Better to start small and stick with it, than start grand and be left with guilt when we didn’t follow through.

We started with one percent of our mortgage. Not much money, but a beginning. Each year we look to see if we can increase it by one percent. The last few years, the increase didn’t come. Our incomes were stagnant, our expenses greater. At first the guilt began to gnaw at me. Why was I being so selfish? When Satan uses guilt to make me want to throw up my hands and quit, I remind myself that God meets my needs so I can meet those of others as He sees fit. Our gift is not insignificant, and as God gives opportunity, I would love to see it grow. My dream is to someday “tithe” our mortgage. I trust God to bring that about in His timing.

It’s important for families in Haiti to become self-sufficient. While providing emergency relief to starving or malnourished people can save their lives, if their lives are going to improve, they need a way to make a living, like Samuel with his goats. Therefore, when we were ready to add another facet to our Haitian giving, we chose Heifer Project.

Heifer Project provides “seed animals” and training in their care to families around the world. The animals contribute to the family’s nutritional needs through milk, eggs or meat. They provide a livelihood as they breed and the family sells the surplus. And because participants are required to give the first female offspring of their animal to another needy family, the gift keeps giving. We earmark our small gift for Haiti.

Only $20 can provide a family with two flocks of geese or chicks or two trios of ducks. I like to imagine children like Samuel eating fresh eggs every day thanks to our monthly gift. Or maybe several months of our giving is combined to provide other families a goat like the one that excited Samuel so. Fresh milk! Whatever the animal, I know that gift means a Haitian family is receiving help to improve its standard of living.

Our Haitian choice has enabled us to quickly handle pleas for help. We usually discard those that don’t impact Haiti, not because they are unworthy, but because they are not within our focus. I refuse to let the pleading face of a needy child in India suck me in and unleash the guilt monster. I know where God has asked me to focus my efforts. I trust Him to call someone else in His body to begin to impact India. Of course, He’s calling many others to serve Haiti, too; I’m not foolish enough to believe this “pinkie toe” could do it alone.

Occasionally we will feel called by God to give to a ministry that’s not in Haiti. That’s great; God’s in charge, and I need to be open to His leading. But for the most part this focused giving has eliminated much giving based on guilt and manipulation.

Part II, Performing for the Love of It

Now it’s time to find your own act. Remember, your mission is not meant to be the same as mine. God is the circus master; He determines your place. Your service won’t follow the same path as mine; it won’t be on the same tightrope. He’s given you things you love to do, areas of concern that break your heart. When you are doing what God has called you to do, he’ll give you a joy in the performance of the work.

God’s balance can affect every area of our lives. We can seek him for our own areas of focus and serve confidently as He directs. One way God often leads us in social justice is by our own heartfelt concern as we are exposed to different needs. The following chapters outline different facets of social justice, giving some facts, appropriate Scriptures, some organizations that work in the area, and some easy ideas for getting started if you wish to test the waters.

In The Message, a Bible paraphrase, Eugene Peterson gives us all a verse to guide our steps on the tightrope. Here is his version of Galatians 6:4, 5:

Make careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.

That’s the ticket. If we want to find our places, we must first carefully explore who we are and discover the work we’ve been given by God. Then we are to sink our teeth into it. We don’t spend time comparing ourselves to others. We don’t sink in a gully of guilt for not doing more. We simply look for creative ways to do the best we can at the task God has equipped us to do.

Take baby steps. Hold tight to God’s hand. See yourself as a work in progress. I hope you’ll use this next section of the book to find your place, the ways God has uniquely created you to love your neighbor and so serve Him.

5. Do something. On the other side, we must do something. God has a mission for each of us. We work with him to determine what it is.

I couldn’t just stay cozy in my little suburban nest and ignore the rest of the world. Jesus sent his disciples into all the world to carry the gospel message “to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). And he told the story of the Good Samaritan recorded in Luke 10 solely to answer the question, “Who is my neighbor?” The short answer: Anyone with a need that I am equipped to meet, even people very different from me.

God has not called me to physically go to the ends of the earth at this time. Yet as part of the body, I am to support those who do go. And that support includes caring for needs that I become aware of and am equipped to meet. It doesn’t matter whose need it is, believer or unbeliever, I am to be a neighbor. There’s no record of the Good Samaritan making the wounded man pass a theological qualifying exam before he received help. I can’t do that either.

So with a commitment to be a world Christian, believing we need to be concerned with people’s spiritual and material needs, I began to look for my place. I already knew I couldn’t give to everything or even pray for every ministry. Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s not possible unless you are one of the few called to a life of total prayer. And even then I’m not sure you could pray for every need.

It can sound awfully unspiritual to decide some good ministry is not going to receive my ongoing prayer. But it’s freeing. Now when presented with a prayer need for a ministry, I can quickly pray and let it go, trusting God to bring it to my mind if he wishes me to keep upholding it in prayer. Even in prayer one can’t do it all. Again, that’s why we’re part of a body. Each member does a part.

6. Determine our style, our steps. God equips each of us with unique gifts and compelling interests to complete our selected mission. Now is the time to pray, examine our own interests, know our abilities, and understand our time and financial limitations.

To complete God’s mission for me, I need to know what it is. But I wasn’t really sure how to go about finding it. Unlike Peter, Jesus did not invite me for a chat at the lake. But he did leave me with the promise of James 1:5: “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” So I asked. And I keep asking.

As I prayed, I realized that if God has a task for me, then he has designed me to do it in his power. It would be foolish—cruel and contrary to his nature, actually—for him to give me a mission I was incapable of completing. Ephesians 2:10 tells us: “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” God made me, crafted me. He made me to do good works, my mission. And those good works were prepared in advance for me to do. Other people may have good works they want me to do, bless their hearts, but I am required only to find the ones God prepared for me, the ones he uniquely created me to do.

And so how was I uniquely created? Knowing myself might give me a clue to my mission. I began to investigate my passions and my gifts and abilities. I’m enthusiastic, an organizer, and able to teach and write. I always root for the underdog, even switching sides during a football game if the underdog becomes the top dog and gets too cocky. I love to read, love geography, love seeing someone succeed against the odds. I love to be silly and laugh; I love children; I love to be silly and laugh with children. I love to make people feel valued, special, to help them discover their own possibilities.

Knowing how God has designed me, the loves and interests and abilities he’s given me, has allowed me to begin to determine how he wants me to impact my world for him. In the next chapter, I will show you how that is playing out in my life. Hopefully, the illustration will give you encouragement for seeking your own unique fit in God’s kingdom work.

4. Realize we cannot do it all. The task of providing a decent life to every human on the planet is an overwhelming one. It can easily swamp us. As individuals, we are not meant to meet every need, to solve every problem. That’s as ludicrous as a one-man circus. We cannot tame the lions, train the elephants, walk the tightrope, juggle, swing from the trapeze and sell the popcorn alone. God is in charge; he’s brought in a troupe. And he assigns each of us our part.

Unfortunately, it took me twenty-plus years to even begin to learn that lesson. When I became aware of the need to be involved in social compassion, I tried to give to every cause that asked me for donations and to participate in every service opportunity that arose. My mailbox soon overflowed with appeals from organizations I never knew existed, all interested in saving a person, a park, a panda or a pansy. The needs and requests kept multiplying as organizations bought mailing lists from others.

Trying to complete the hazy self-proscribed mission of “changing my world” while working full-time and serving as a pastor’s wife soon left me burned out. I knew I needed to serve God both in the church and in the world, but I just couldn’t do it all. If this was what God had created me for, why couldn’t I carry it out?

In previous cycles when I burned out (or guilted out), I dropped the social justice portion of my service. After all, I couldn’t very well just stop being a pastor’s wife. I tried to assuage the guilt by telling myself that God certainly didn’t want me to do a poor job of serving him, so better not to do it at all. Perhaps he would call someone more “spiritual,” more selfless to do the job. I would resign myself to status as a second-tier Christian, the idea that I could never live a wholly committed life for Jesus, since apparently that involved being a social activist.

This time, though, I didn’t run. I admitted to myself that perhaps my focus was too broad. Possibly I was trying to do things God had not created me for, to be someone God had not created me to be. God never intended for one person to do it all, hence the body concept in the twelfth chapter of 1 Corinthians. I’m not designed to be the complete body; in fact, I may be merely a pinkie toe. Whatever “body part” I was created to be, that’s where I am to function. I needed to find my place. This required a further examination of who I was and who I was not . . .

By the time I hit college, my mom’s set of Corelle plates was decimated. We only had five dinner plates left, which was usually okay as there were five of us. But when my elder brother, Carl, got engaged, his fiancée, Cathy, began to eat a lot of meals at our home. When I set the table, my mother would always insist that I give her a small salad plate so the rest of us could have the five large ones. If any of us tried to take the small plate, she would sternly urge us to let her have it. Cathy and I began to tease her, taking the plate, demanding that we wanted a chance to “be the martyr.” To this day “I want to be the martyr” is a family joke.

But somewhere along the way I absorbed the belief that martyrdom was a virtue, one I should be striving for. Wasn’t that what Paul meant in Romans 12:1 when he urged us to offer ourselves as living sacrifices? Unfortunately, I never made a good martyr. I can be selfish, and I certainly don’t want to die, especially not daily.

This time around, I gave up the martyr ambitions. Like an alcoholic at a 12-step group, I came before God and said, “My name is Carol, and I’m not Mother Teresa.”

It was freeing. I no longer expected myself to “give it all up” in service to the world. While all that I have is to be used for God, I had never received a call to voluntary poverty. I had received a call as a pastor’s wife, a suburban pastor’s wife even, and one as a writer. Those were my places, and I could seek God, discovering the areas where and how he wanted me to be involved.

“A servant of God has but one Master.”

George Müller

If God is in charge and hasn’t designed us for the trapeze, we need to learn to walk the tightrope he did design us for. So what are God’s beginning tightrope lessons for us?

Lessons from the Master

1. Remember we are not God. Not very profound, but we often forget it. And we will never make any progress without accepting that, for all the lessons that follow come out of it. He is the only omniscient, omnipotent being in the universe.

Years ago, when the New Age movement was at its height, my husband had a T-shirt that read, “Even in this new age the truth is crystal clear: 1) There is a god. 2) You’re not him.” Unfortunately, it is a truth I need to make my mantra. How easily I forget that God is God and I am not. On this side of heaven, I will never fully understand our world or the Scriptures. Never will I be able to accomplish every task my eyes see that needs to be done. It is a job only God can complete.

When we recognize we are not God, we can relax and accept being ordinary. As I once heard Christian psychologist Diane Landberg say, “You do not need to be extraordinary; you need only be ordinary people inhabited by an extraordinary God.” Rejoice in the fact that you are not God, and allow him to work through you.

2. Live with the mystery. We need to grasp that our creature-sized brains will never be able to harmonize every Bible passage into one magic plan to govern our priorities. That’s the Author’s job.

Realizing that I am not expected to work every Scripture into a cohesive agenda for my life has been an important step toward discovering guilt-free living. There will always be passages I don’t understand. Or worse yet, passages that seem perfectly clear and rather dogmatic and yet at odds with so much else in Scripture or with my life.

If I am going to find my balance, am going to walk the tightrope, I have to trust in God’s ability to reconcile seemingly irreconcilable ideas. I need to stop swinging back and forth on the trapeze, let go of the extremes. If I truly walk with God, his peace guides me. He illuminates the Word as it applies to my life.

3. Don’t allow others to determine our priorities. While others sincerely believe their interpretation of God’s biblical priorities, their answers may not apply to our lives (nor ours to theirs). God has not called us to determine other people’s place in his plan. When we let others dictate our priorities we will likely miss God’s. He speaks in a much softer voice.

After the resurrection, Jesus met a few of his disciples by a lake for a fish-fry breakfast (John 21:1–23). He took some special time alone with Peter, time to teach Peter what his purpose would be in God’s kingdom. Jesus gave Peter his mission. In fact, Jesus repeated it three times so he wouldn’t miss it. “Feed my sheep. Take care of my sheep. Feed my sheep.” Each time the instruction was preceded by the question, “Do you love me?” Jesus wanted Peter to understand that his relationship with Jesus, his love for him, enabled a special, God-designed mission. Jesus ended by saying, “Follow me.”

Unfortunately, Peter was distracted. Rather than concentrating on his own mission from God, his mind was elsewhere. He started looking at John, wondering what John would be given to do, and interrupted Jesus’ instruction to ask, “Lord, what about him?”

So often, that’s how I respond to God. I want to know his will for those around me. I want us all to have the same purpose, the same responsibilities. “Many hands make light work,” my mom always said, and I want everyone’s hands in the same dishwater as mine. I don’t want to be required to make sacrifices that my friends don’t have to. I want us all to live the same way, all walking the wide path arm in arm. It would make life so much easier.

But that is not God’s way. There is not room on my tightrope for all of us. Only for my Lord and me. And so the Lord answers me as he did Peter, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me” (John 21:22). “Stop worrying about my plan, my mission, for other people,” Jesus seems to whisper. “Stop trying to drag everyone along on the journey I planned for you.” I am only responsible to find my calling before God. And once certain of my calling, I can encourage others to find theirs.

In order to walk in the path God sets for me, I have to stop holding on to the opinions of others. I needed to find God’s priorities for me, not for my church, my friends, or even my husband, and certainly not for the church at large. I am responsible for finding my place, not for putting others in theirs.