My cousin – one of many whom I admire – made a brave and bold decision 2 years ago to purchase a dying company and rebuild it into something that can only be described with her own vernacular: fabulous. She changed the face of one of the streets in her downtown by imagining beauty into existence in the store windows. She does everything she can to bring quality products to her town so that even those raised in rinky-dink villages have the opportunity to try on – and own – something that makes them sparkle for these days & evenings they will likely remember forever. 

And just why do I care if girls in Northwest Ohio are wearing prettier dresses to prom or that Maggie Sottero -the designer of my own wedding dress, named Ophelia (see, you never forget these things) – now stands on the streets I used to cruise? 

Because the store – most any small business – is a story of how a person wanted more for their community and they put their heart and soul into breathing life into it. In the words of Erin Brockovich, “That is my work, my sweat, my time away from my kids!” Work is so much more than the bottom line of a P&L statement, even if that bottom number is what keeps the wheels turning. 

All around me I see these brave and courageous women breathing life into others through their endeavors. Their courage to step away from the safety of standard employment to leap into their own unknown, using their talents and gifts to forge the path. 

I see Jennie’s marks on my own walls, the way she captures a beautiful moment and helps us, some of us mothers inept at producing our own documentation, remember the smiles and looks of our children. 

I see Leslie’s gorgeous – and oh, so tasty – confections creations that allow us to celebrate special moments in such a personal way. She took a hobby and a love and has blessed the parties and gatherings of others through her talents. 

In this world, there are dreamers and there are doers. Hands down, I dream. I love to imagine the possibilities. Which is why I gaze upward toward the ladies who grab some gloves and pick up a shovel. They don’t stop with the “a gal ought to…” but rather they follow it with “… and next I’ll…”. 

Jen Hatmaker, a favorite blogger and a strong voice, just posted a video last night that continues to inspire. 

We’re living in such a unique time and place, where women everywhere are coming to the table  and not just asking for a seat but telling the guys scoot over, we have an idea. Things are getting done. Work is being accomplished. Successfully. Even with a black bottom line. 

I hear what Jen’s saying. And I see what these women do. And I have to wonder how much talent, energy, and creation is going unharnessed. Is it possible we hushed the voices, if ever so stealthily, by asking them to serve in the nursery* when they could be creating new ways for people to know and see and experience God?  

The world is changing and moving. The role and status and value of women in all communities has shifted and everywhere I look I see females stepping to the plate, bravely. Leaving – and joining – traditional roles as a way to fulfill a calling. 

Laura’s decision to step into a new work pushed me to step out of an old one. I look back at life as we knew it just 2 years ago and I see a different picture. Since then, Laura has painted a beautiful portrait of inspiration. I can’t really fathom what my life might look like in 2 years. What my “business” will entail in 2 years, how my community can be affected in 2 years. What my daily grind will include in 2 years. So much – so much! – can change and will change if I’m willing to take my own bits of creative energy and put it to more than a whiteboard. 

Not just in my occupation, but in the Kingdom of God. 

(Normally I try to dust it under the rug or cloak it in hipness. Or justify it away as simply a different version of normal. But no,  this morning we shall lay it out there for all the nerdiness glory that it is.) 

Fermentation. Fascinating really. 

It’s no secret that our eating habits have changed as my body decided to reject the contemporary means of keeping food from spoiling, namely, processing and preservatives. It’s been just about a year now (I remember Girl Scout Cookie time last year was a low point) and my knowledge of how plants and animals come to serve as food has increased greatly. Oh, don’t let your eyes glaze over yet. 

Mmmm. Glaze. Like a donut…. (see? I still value my roots). 

So in my food discoveries it should be no surprise that I picked up a book called The Food and Feasts of Jesus. It combined my favorite topics of conversation and research! Not to mention it contains a heavy Jewish-practices component, another secret fetish. Win-win, win. I’ve enjoyed not only the history but the culture that unfolded when you begin to look at how a people group eats. 

One of the primary means of nourishment “back in the day” came down to bread. Not a fluffy white loaf of Wonder, but a basic loaf made from a variety of grains depending on availability. And, as with most food, the means to make it came from a handy little process called fermentation. Really, the best foods in which we tend to over indulge come from tiny little bacteria making a party – wine, beer, bread, cheese, yogurt… all of them are “living and active”, made vibrant on your kitchen countertop, defying the need for refrigeration. The key to good eating: take a lump from your last batch and add it to the new. This, my friends, efficiently leads to daily bread. 

You take what grew last week, add some grain, milk or fruit, and let it fester. Not in the refrigerator  where things go dormant, but right beside it where the coils produce enough residual warmth for things to grow comfortably. A good 24-72 hours later and we have a new food product.

(Show of hands for who just put down their Yoplait?)

Though the traditional sourdough kept a staple place on the dining room table, it wasn’t really welcome at the alter. In fact, in nearly all grain offerings made at the temple were mandated to be unleavened – without the piece of yesterday’s fermentation in it. It was basically baked flour+water+oil. Like a cracker. KLR made unleavened bread once for an event and there were rules around how quickly you had to get it in the oven to ensure that nothing started to grow. And taste? Well, yes. It tasted exactly as you think it did. We choked it down out of principle. 

But if bread with air bubbles was standard practice, why couldn’t it make its way into standard worship? What did God have against leavening? Even Jesus uses the idea as an unbecoming description of the Pharisees, warning followers to “beware of the yeast of the Pharisees.” 

If yesterday’s loaf was the means of life for the culture, why did God keep it out of worship? 

I read how the Todah, or thanksgiving, feast offering differed from other sacrifices of worship to the Jewish believers. The Todah took place after a believer came face-to-face with death and lived; it acknowledged the saving hand of God. Typically after recovery, you’d take a large animal and 4 loaves of bread – one of them leavened – to the Temple for sacrifice. Then you’d have a party large enough to eat all the offerings as a celebration that same day. You’d retell the story of how you were delivered and the people that loved you most celebrated the fact that you’re still here. 

This act of worship celebrated that which had already happened. The authors noted, “the person making the sacrifice and holding the feast came to the temple already experiencing shalom, not seeking it.” 

Now, I don’t want to take any theological leaps or liberties here; numerous reasons stand behind God asking for His bread to be sans bacterial reaction. One of them comes from His history with the Israelites fleeing Egypt, leaving before their bread had time to rise. I’m sure other people more wise or educated than I can provide supplemental reasoning. But allow me to throw my own loaf on the table. 

What if God’s primary concerns aren’t the yesterdays, but the tomorrows? 

Of course, God commands us to remember (actually throughout the book of Deuteronomy it comes up several times). But not remember who we were or what we did, but rather keeping in mind the actions of God and His faithfulness. 

But bringing to worship something that ties us to the past doesn’t seem to fit with God’s general prerogative. God seems to think that when it comes to facing Him, all things become new. 

 If I had to guess, the Todah allows leavening because we remember what God did; our other efforts at worship and connecting to God are asking him to do something in the future and God doesn’t need the past. At least, not our past. He’s over that. 

Maybe God doesn’t want us to bring something with life already in it because we may be tempted to miss that He is the giver of life itself. He’s about creation, about making things new. He doesn’t need what we’ve already done. In fact, what we’ve already done seems pretty inconsequential, both for the good and the bad.

Instead, God looks ahead to what He will do. How He will provide. How He will reach down and connect with His people and reestablish peace and shalom in our lives. How He will use what is dead to breathe life into us. 

I distinctly remember one morning; the conversation somehow had come up regarding an article in Relevant magazine, and I’m pretty sure Anna either brought it up or had read it at the same time I did. The article covered pastors who struggled with addictions to pornography. 

Note: if Anna was present, this was my first year in the youth director role. Genius material to discuss. 

I don’t recall the course of the conversation, but 7:35 quickly approached and it was time to pray out. One of the kids – Scott? Anna? Mary? I wouldn’t put it past any of them – said, “I think we should pray for these pastors.” 

And my heart melted a little more for the innocent ones who recognize that all have fallen short, that all struggle, that none can be put upon a pedestal of perfection. Their prayers were authentic. Their prayers didn’t even know the whole story, yet they they wanted, somehow, for God to take action in the hearts of unnamed people. 

Today that same former youth called me and we briefly chatted about the fallenness of yet another in the field of ministry. I looked up the reports online and my heart just sank. Disappointment. Grief. Frustration. Emotions on behalf of the young girl and her family. Emotions on behalf of the church family left to wonder. Emotions for this young man who allowed the grip of sin to take control and so many will feel the consequences of it.

I can only hope there’s a small group of high school kids meeting in the morning and the Spirit falls upon them to pray. Not just to point and fault and shame, but to ask God for healing. For everyone.