How long has it been since you read these 278 words?

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate--we can not consecrate--we can not hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. it is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that government of the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

(Lincoln's Gettysburg address, a speech that took just over two minutes to deliver, now considered one of the greatest speeches in history. Fitting for today: Memorial Day.)

Never forget.

4 Ways You Can Recognize a Good Story

I'm writing on this topic today as part of a challenge from the blog Prodigal Magazine: What does it mean to live a good story, and why does it matter? Naturally, I thought of my favorite books and what made them so:

Is it a pageturner?

The first way you know a story is good is if you keep turning pages. If at any point, you dog ear a page and close the book and then never return, something is lacking in that story for you, at that time. For whatever reason, it just didn't resonate or engage you.

A good story is one you want to keep reading.

Is it memorable?

Was the story so good that I told others about it? Did I want to come back again and savor the particular recipe of words the author stirred and simmered together? Did I want relive the memories of loss, life, laughter, love or lunacy? Did I want to cancel everything to drive to the reunion and spend some more time with the characters and their fears, courage, hopes, pettiness, and quirkiness because they felt like home--or made me appreciate my own home?

A good story is one you recall with affection, even though you know every line. Even though--or maybe because--there are some parts that break your heart.

Is the main character transformed?

All good stories follow the form of Joseph Campbell's 'hero's journey', overcoming obstacles to complete the journey, accomplish the quest, obtain the prize (whatever it may be). If the main character isn't transformed between "Once upon a time" and "The End," it's not a good story.

A good story chronicles change and resolution, with a major focus on 

the difficulties that were overcome.

Does it make you ask "who wrote this"?

I once had a book on my Books to Read list. Then one day I started reading a magazine article. Within a few paragraphs, I was so impressed with the writing that I asked "who wrote this?"and returned to the byline. It was Marilynne Robinson, the author of that book I was planning to read. I went out and got the book that day, and have read it more than once, along with all her novels. I've seen her in person and know quite a bit about her.

A good story incites curiosity about its author. It makes you want to know everything about them, follow them on Twitter, read everything they've written. Yes! you think. That's exactly how I would have expressed that if only I was as brilliant as you.

Living a Good Story

Whether or not the events in a life seem worthy of the big screen, a good life story has the same features I've just mentioned:

• I will be continually living it, with the pages always open and engaged in, even in the scary, slow-moving, and confusing parts. No checking out, no disengaging! I will say of my life: "I couldn't put it down!"
• I will be worth remembering by at least one person, even if that person is me or "the littlest of these." That means I must love and serve at least one other being.
• I will be transformed through my trials. Emphasis appears to be on the trials but the final word is on victory.
• I will reveal my author. My life will demand explanation of the wellspring behind it. What makes me tick? Where do I get my strength? How do I overcome? Who's writing my life?

The amazing thing about life stories, is that if we stay engaged, even the dark scenes will be meaningful in retrospect. The magic of kairos will reframe those unhappy vignettes, like in Shutter Island, where the unexpected twist at the end compels you to go back and experience every scene again with your new knowledge to see how you missed the truth (which makes you ask "who wrote this?").

Why does it matter?

I finally feel that I'm living a good story. The reason it matters? Recently, a woman I had just met told me, with tears in her eyes, "Because you shared your story with me, I feel like I could share mine. Do you want to hear it?"  And she told me something she had never told anyone, something I don't think she could believe had really happened until it was witnessed and affirmed by another person.

”We need a witness to our lives.  There's a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything.  The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all of the time, every day.  You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.  Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness'." (from Shall We Dance?)


Jesus said, "Be my witnesses," because the meaningfulness of events lies in their being witnessed. Living a good story encourages others to live a good story, and this is how we change the world, by changing one little world at a time.

Catalyst, Resonate, Kairos: Magical Words

Week before last, I was privileged to be able to attend Dallas Catalyst, a young ministry leaders conference.

It. Was. Phenomenal.

There was never a dull moment and some of the wisest minds on the planet shared their wisdom for two days. Seriously, I was blown away.

The theme was Be Present. I thought it was appropriate for the intended age group in the audience (YOUNG ministry leaders) that many of the speakers touched on the theme of avoiding shortcuts, taking time to develop (crockpot maturity vs. microwave), not being a one-draft generation. As Judah Smith put it, "A shooting star never helped a lost hiker."

Despite not being a young ministry leader, I learned a lot. Nancy Duarte reintroduced me to the hero's journey, a concept I borrowed from Joseph Campbell and used in my first book, (From Gravel to Glory) to frame the spiritual process of sanctification/deconstruction/growth as an adventure.

Nancy runs a highly success presentation design studio, working with such giants as Apple and Google. She blew me away with her presentation. Now she's blowing me away with her book, Resonate. I tweeted about my reverence at approaching her beautiful book (I may or may not have heard angels humming!) and she even tweeted me back. Sweet!

Nancy has reunited me with my inner processing-freak. I had become disdainful of my own need for and love of analyzing. I'm realizing that analysis comes full circle in synthesis. You take something apart and then you put it back together. Once you know how it works, you have the power to manipulate and change the system. That's what I'm doing.

I'm on something of a nostalgic journey as pieces of my life come together and I see that nothing has been wasted. For some reason, it makes me think of the classic and timeless song, Landslide.(I chose to use the Dixie Chicks version because the theme of their video actually resonates with me right now!)



Nancy's book is inspiring me to find the most powerful and productive way to tell the story that Stevie Nicks (writer of Landslide*) captures so beautifully in just a few minutes of melody, the story that is unfolding rapidly in my life right now. Everything from the past is being reframed. And today it strikes me that as I learn and share it, I can't encourage shortcut taking. People have to take the long way.

I did.

I'm tempted to give in to the siren call of regret I hear coming from the edge of the jungle from which I've emerged. To wish I had learned or wanted to learn all this sooner. To fear that I won't have time to learn all that I still want to learn.

No, everything is happening in His time. It's the message I repeatedly give to young people I work with and then have to remind myself of.

It is a beautiful thing to fall out of chronos (time as we know it) into kairos, appointed time...or as MarthBeck calls it, "time of the gods." To be in kairos is to see as if you're outside of time. Then you can step back into chronos with a higher personal vibration to become a catalyst and to speak a message that resonates. That is my goal and great privilege, encouraging others to cross over into the hero's journey and begin the adventure.

..and I am ready!

How many times do we have to hear the oxygen mask story?

You know the one rule about oxygen masks, right?

Even those of us who have never flown probably know that if you should ever be on a plane that experiences pressure changes in the cabin, the oxygen masks will fall. You are supposed to put yours on first so you will be able to help others. Years ago, an astute someone applied this truth to our daily lives (especially to women!): You can't help others if you don't take care of yourself.

I'm kind of a rule follower, so I always believed I would put my oxygen mask on first if I was in that situation, but I recently read an article by a woman who experienced a flight in which the oxygen masks fell. She knew the rule too--not to mention that they were being told the rule. But there was a little old woman next to her who was frightened and unable to reach her own mask. The author made the split second decision to disobey the rule. How long could it take, after all, to get the woman's mask on and then hers? Surely she would have time.

Wrong.

In seconds she found herself--not gasping for breath--but getting so lightheaded that she was uncoordinated, fumbling around, unable to think clearly. She was about to pass out! Just in the nick of time she put her own mask on and then was easily able to help the woman.

I felt very convicted by this story. Maybe I would ignore the rule too.

Here's why I think that: I had been trying to schedule some desperately needed time alone for weeks and was feeling the lightheadedness beginning. I knew the calendar was full for weeks. I was getting uncoordinated: I sprained my ankle. It was the day of the 17 or so tornadoes that ripped through Dallas, so I had to hop through hail on one foot to get to the doctor's office and then home. Healthcare being what it is, it took 48 hours and 2 different facility visits to find out that the ankle wasn't broken. I found out over the phone and received no instructions for its care.

If you take one mother out of the picture, it takes at least 3 or 4 people to replace her. But nobody stepped up to replace me. The tornadoes had broken out the front and back windshields and moonroof in my daughter's car, so that afternoon and evening were filled with the family working to remove the glass and water and tape up the windows. Everyone is just as busy as I am--jobs, school, athletics. Steve now had to add wrangling with insurance adjustors and roofers for our totaled roof to his busy schedule. If anyone saw me limping, they told me to sit down, but they didn't do the jobs I had to do. My ankle hurt alot, but I kept going--to work, to Walmart, to a flashmob rehearsal that involved jumping and running and made my ankle even worse. I couldn't stop any of these things. I just kept limping along.

Without realizing the connection, I began to be emotional, inefficient and forgetful. About 10 days after the accident, my 18-year old daughter Danica noticed that I seemed unhappy. She asked me what was wrong. I thought about it and said, "I think it's that my ankle hurts." She looked down and said, "Why aren't you wearing a brace?"

I looked down too. A brace. What a good idea. I made a mental note to get myself one at Walmart later that day. Without either of us realizing it, she had just put an oxygen mask on me, although it didn't give me enough clarity to ask someone else to go to Walmart and get a brace for me. But I was getting slightly more oxygenated and had an epiphany on the drive to work. I called our women's ministry leader and asked her to give me permission to do what I knew I needed to do: drop out of the flashmob. I didn't want to let down the "team."  I realized later that I was essentially asking her if it was ok to keep the oxygen mask on myself. "Is it okay if I take care of myself, even if others are inconvenienced by it?"

I was sucking in some serious O2 with this brave decision (anyone in their sound mind would have already made). Previously muddled cogs began to consider solutions to my ankle and oxygen problems. I got to work, called Steve and got his support for a 3-day hotel stay in which I would get off my foot. I was in the hotel by 2pm, working remotely for the next day and half and then writing, sleeping, and reading the rest of the time. My ankle stopped hurting. My thoughts and creativity began to return. I had been like Joe Peschi in that Snickers commercial: you're not you when you're hungry.

I wonder how many times I will have to hear the oxygen mask story. This incident taught me how unresponsive I am to my body's signals. When I ignored its pleas for solitude, rest and care for an injury, my emotions took up the call and my mind began to shut down. Heart, mind, soul and strength...all begging the slave driver in me to put down the whip.

I learned my lesson.Without a doubt, if I'm ever on a plane and oxygen masks fall, I will put mine on first. It's time to do that on the ground. No one else is going to mother me.

What about you? Have you ever been in a plane when the oxygen masks fell? What did you experience? How well are you doing at keeping the oxygen mask on yourself here on the ground?