I felt there was more for me, but I also was led to believe that God would be angry if I became a preacher and spiritual leader.
This piece is delves into the moral, ethical, and biblical ramifications of the current practice in the United States of separating immigrant parents from their children. In it, we include reflections on the plight of children in the Old Testament; the plight of families in the Western hemisphere; and the ways in which Jesus, a Messiah who saw the suffering of families, stretched his followers’ moral imaginations.
At Sacred Alliance, we are committed to telling a better story, perhaps the best story. We champion narratives of real people leading effectively in their corners of the globe for the good of the kingdom. We’re committed to seeing Jesus’ faithful presence in every nook and cranny of this world, and that means all-hands-on-deck: men and women serving shoulder to shoulder in their areas of greatest giftedness.
As we discern God’s call upon our life, seeking to make the most of the life God has given, the still small voice inside is not the most important voice to listen to. Besides the voice of God—heard through God’s Word, prayer, and a community of believers—the most important voice to heed is the voice of our neighbor.
I believe power and authority are lordship issues, not gender issues. The church needs women who are confident in God's call and His willingness to enable them to function with power and authority in such a way that it is His power and authority seen and accepted. I rarely think of the power or authority I have been given unless someone points it out. Rather, I am called to be a servant who delights in serving Him wherever He places me.
This week on the Story Collective our conversation with Jo Saxton, author of The Dream of You: Let Go of Broken Identities and Live the Life You Were Made For, continues as Jo shares her thoughts on life as a black woman, the #MeToo movement, and how men and women can intentionally move the conversation about women in the church forward.
The church service ended and I rushed to the parking lot in a desperate quest to reach the safety of solitude before I burst. Once home, I watched my favorite comfort movie (You’ve Got Mail), took a self-pity power nap, anger-baked two dozen strawberry basil cupcakes, wept until my nasal cavity buzzed from the strain, wrapped a quilt around myself when I couldn’t find my coat and walked around the block in the crisp November air, and finally emailed a friend to confess I was feeling a bit “topsy-turvy.”