Being raised Lutheran, we believe in baptism as a child, which is when I was baptized. But in my mind it never happened because I have no recollection of it. While I was in junior high, I started taking confirmation classes where I was being taught about the faith I was baptized into. Being a classic moody teenager, I didn't take any of this seriously. I wanted to go to church to see my friends, so I did this without argument.

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It may surprise some that, as someone who grew up Catholic, confession was something I saw more on television and movies than I practiced in real life. That was partially due to how often my family moved from one place to the next, and partially due to my own fear.  

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Thank you to the Imagoans who took the time to fill out the survey about what you would like to see shape our vision. As a leadership team, we appreciate hearing your voices about where you feel the spirit of God moving in and through our part of the Body of Christ. We have tried to thoughtfully and prayerfully use your feedback in plans going forward. There were some common threads among those who answered—many find Breakfast Club and our other outreach ministries to be hugely rewarding, whether they participate personally or want to support a church who prioritizes these actions. Most are very pleased with our attempts to have a welcoming spirit to all and consider that their priority as well. The community people find here and the love of the people of Imago for the people of Imago radiated. 

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Several summers ago, I was able to travel to Vail, CO. In the Winter, it’s one of the most popular skiing destinations, but in the Summer, it’s a beautiful place to hike through the forest. I was able to hike through a breathtaking aspen forest when I was in Vail. While I was there, I learned that Aspen trees aren’t stand-alone trees but are inter-connected stems/trunks that share the same exact root system. What starts as a single seed can spread into a massive cluster with thousands of shoots off the same roots. What looks like many stand-alone trees is actually a family of stems connected underground.

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For the last several months my work at Jolt has taken to places I never imagined. I spend the majority of my day with those who are unstably housed, people who inject drugs, and individuals engaged in sex work, particularly women who work the streets of Peoria. 

When people find out about the work I do, they have very strong opinions about the prostitutes I’ve come to know by name, who have become my friends and colleagues. There is an immediate comparison to the wicked temptress Eve or the whore Mary Magdaline.

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In 2014 I was pastoring a church in Kentucky where I would frequent the county jail. It was here that I visited a man in his thirties, who was serving several years of time. During one of my visits, he shared about a new inmate on his cell block. This block consisted of twenty bunk beds all packed into a room with a few toilets and sinks. The day this inmate was brought into his cell, all of the men in the cell knew who he was because they had seen his face plastered all over the local news station in the recreation room. The men snickered at him and treated him harshly. But the man from my church got up from his bunk and moseyed over to gift him with a bar of soap. 

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My wife, Leslie, and I have served the poor in Honduras every year since 2000. I made Imago Dei aware of the need 10-11 years ago, and teams have been serving in the same settlement outside La Esperanza every year since. We have built around 12 houses and have made lasting relationships with many who live in this barrio.

Here’s why I—we—keep doing this.

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I am excited.  I am 8 months pregnant with a healthy little boy.  However, the journey was not easy to get to this point.  I don’t always look excited.  Fear still sets in about whether I will be able to bring my baby boy home with me.  It was over two years ago when we officially decided we wanted to start to grow our family. Since then, I have lost two babies. The entire process was miserable and difficult.  I also struggled to get pregnant during this process, and I battled long and hard to find out everything I could about my health – and do anything I could to improve it. So this is my third pregnancy; not my first.  And it is exciting; but it is also scary.  I am aware that I could lose this baby too; although, I hope to be able to bring him home. During this time, support, community, and stories got me through.  The story about an elephant and a dog stands out to me.  This story continues to motivate me and remind me that the baby boy I am carrying is very special.  He is mighty and great.  His story is full of difficulty and grief and time, but when he is here, he will be very important.  

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We visited dear friends in Michigan a couple of weeks ago. I remember early conversations with my friend, because she is one of those people who leaves an impression. She’s smart, kind, a little quirky, and willing to be vulnerable. I look forward to spending time with her because she shows up as her authentic self, which allows me to do the same. I cherish her friendship.

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I have always loved books. I love the way they smell, feel, and sound. When I walk into a bookstore or library, I always take a deep breath and absorb the smell of opportunity, adventure, and dreams. I have always loved books. Narrowing this experience down to one meaningful book to share about was not easy until I realized I needed to go back to my roots. Charlie by Diane Fox Downs always makes my heart skip a beat when I see it. Sightings are rare, so these moments are special. It is a Little Golden Book that’s been out of print for years. I am partial to the one with the dark green cover, as that is the book my grandmother had.  

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I am a white, upper-middle class, heterosexual Christian female. Outside of Scripture, the story that most recently changed my life is a true one, couched within a much larger narrative that I was unaware of before that point. I will never forget the day that I saw the video of the last moments of Philandro Castile’s life.

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I’ve always been someone who stood up for what and who I believed in. This became real for me the summer going into my freshman year. Eric Potter ran into my dad and said they still had some open spots for their mystery mission trip. My dad called my mom to tell her about it, and I was in the car, definitely listening in on the conversation. I reluctantly looked at my mom and said, “I don’t want to do this, but I know I need to,” and I couldn’t have been any more right about that. So for the first time, I packed up my bags and traveled hundreds of miles away from my family with a bunch of strangers to places I’ve never been before.

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There was an old man who used to walk on the ocean. Off into the distance, the old man noticed a small child approaching. As the child walked, she paused every so often and she grew closer. The man could see that she was occasionally bending down to pick up an object and throw it to the ocean. The girl came closer still and the man called out. “Good morning! May I ask what you are doing?”

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I am constantly finding myself enraptured and carried away by engaging stories. Sometimes these are in books, other times in TV shows or movies, and sometimes in a news story on NPR. NPR actually has a phrase for these types of stories, they call them “driveway moments”—stories so engaging that you just want to sit in your car and listen through to the end. But more than simply through engaging stories, I believe that the mark of a good story is one that I can keep coming back to and every time adds new depth.

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In September of 2014, we were living in Little Rock, Arkansas. Caterpillar had transferred us there from Peoria two years prior, just six weeks before our son was born. Out of that uprooting, we learned how to accept help from a community of near-strangers as we navigated raising a newborn with our families a day’s drive away. Those relationships became ever deeper that autumn morning when Gina had a seizure in the church childcare room. From the ensuing flurry of doctor appointments, tests and scans came those words that you pray you’ll never hear, “Your wife has a brain tumor.”

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